


New Neighbors

by writeswithfeatherquills



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, No real plot yet, Old Grampa Joey may or may not be a sly sassy little fucker, Post-Pacifist Route, THESE BABIES NEED A GRAMPA OKAY?!, and all that old-timey goodness, and bottle rockets, oh and fluff, there will be camping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeswithfeatherquills/pseuds/writeswithfeatherquills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The monsters all leave Mt. Ebott, and begin settling in up top. Toriel, Frisk, and the skelebros get two houses next to each other in a human neighborhood. And while Frisk has found parent figures at last...in this strange new human world, their new parents may need some help themselves.<br/>Enter Joseph McCallum.<br/>A seventy year old, widower, ex-bomb-squad member with a cockatiel, a prosthetic leg, and a penchant for garage chemistry and splatter painting, he's quite the character, as well as an unexpected wealth of knowledge about the Overworld. He isn't one to turn down people in need, and besides, this is the most interesting thing to happen in years. Who said old people only got to TELL stories?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Neighborhood

“Well, here we are!” Toriel says brightly, but Frisk has already unbuckled their seat belt and leapt out of the car like it was on fire. Toriel chuckled and got out herself, surveying the house she had parked in front of as the child ran around on the lawn. It hadn't really been that long of a drive to the neighborhood from Mt. Ebott, maybe two hours, but Frisk had been incredibly eager to see their new home. 

There was a monster settlement being started at the base of the mountain, but the monsters wanted to initiate as much trust as they could as soon as they could, and so the former queen of the underground and the monster's human ambassador were moving into Redwood Hills, a small subdivision in the nearest human city. They would be completely surrounded by humans--except, of course, for Papyrus and Sans, who were moving into the house next door. When everyone had agreed that Toriel and Frisk would move here, Papyrus had exclaimed that he was going too, presenting the surprisingly well thought-out reasoning that since he was a Royal Guard  _ in training _ , he would be the perfect unofficial bodyguard--strong enough to protect the two from any attack, but not an official military soldier, so he wouldn't be seen as a threat by any humans. They had agreed to let him come, which of course meant that Sans would come too--the two brothers were nigh inseparable, and nobody really questioned it.

So here they were, standing in front of a lovely suburban home painted a rather soothing shade of lavender, with Frisk racing up towards the dark maroon door, and Payrus’ hot red convertible rumbling down the road towards them, Sans following on his motorbike.

One thing was for sure--this quiet little neighborhood was about to get a lot more interesting. 

 

.o.O.o.

 

Toriel unlocked the door with the key she had been given by the previous owner, watching with amusement as Frisk bounced on the balls of their feet, staring at the door handle as if they could make it open the door faster through sheer force of will. Toriel heard the lock click and pushed the door open, taking a small step back as Frisk shot through the doorway into their new home. Toriel chuckled to herself and stepped inside, closing the door behind her and surveying the inside of the house. The walls were painted a light cream color, and the wooden floors were worn down and smooth from years of being walked upon. It came fully furnished, which was a blessing since bringing up furniture from the underground was rather difficult if you lived far from the barrier, say, in the ruins. Toriel looked left just in time to see Frisk dart around a corner. Slightly concerned that the child would slip--they had taken off their shoes and so were running around at full speed in socks on wood floors-- she followed and found frisk staring in awe at a beautiful kitchen and dining room. 

_ ‘So many windows!’ _ they signed excitedly.

“Yes, there certainly are.” Toriel replied. They continued the circuit of the downstairs, seeing a bathroom, office, and living room, before Frisk started climbing the stairs. They were curved like a partial spiral, and carpeted in a thick white carpet, which continued upstairs. Before Toriel had even reached the top, Frisk came running back, signing that they had claimed their room. They grabbed Toriel’s paw and dragged her to a blue painted room with large windows and a small twin bed with a bare mattress, a dresser, and an old chest made of wood and dark leather. Frisk excitedly gestured to the chest.

_ ‘Do you think there's anything in it?’ _ they asked, and Toriel shrugged.

“I don't know my child, let's see.” she carefully lifted the heavy lid--she didn't want Frisk to pinch their fingers--and looked inside. There was a spare set of bedsheets, which she removed, and there, at the very bottom, was an old scrap of fabric. Frisk, who had been hovering with their head right at Toriel’s shoulder the whole time, reached in hesitantly and grabbed it. The fabric scrap was striped light green and white, triangle-shaped, and starting to fray on two of its sides. It was embroidered with small white lilies, though most of it had been cut away. On the other side, there was what looked like writing, but it was far too old to read anymore, the blue ink faded and smudged by time and wear. Frisk stared at the scrap intently, and then folded it up neatly into a small square, and tucked it into their pocket.

_ ‘history.’ _ they signed simply, and Toriel couldn't help but smile.

Back downstairs, the skeleton brothers helped them move their scant luggage into the house, with Sans making several bad puns about traveling and clothing and houses, and Papyrus grumbling or outright screaming as Toriel and Frisk giggled. Once they had finished, the skeletons went to unload their own luggage, and Toriel started preparing dinner.

The first night passed uneventfully.

 

.o.O.o.

 

The next day was a Sunday, so most of the stores in the area were closed. They would have to go shopping for everything but groceries tomorrow. So Toriel got to work cleaning the house. Frisk went outside to play with Papyrus, and she watched them from a window, smiling slightly. She paused in her work, however, when she saw a woman walking her dog down the road towards them. She glanced from the woman to Frisk, who was riding on Papyrus’ shoulders, as Sans looked looked on from the porch. The woman paused in her walking, staring for a moment, and Toriel tensed. The residents of the neighborhood had been been told that they were moving in, and and it and it was long enough after the barrier was broken that news of the monsters had been featured in every newspaper and on every news channel, so there shouldn't be any nasty shocks. But one could never be too sure. 

The woman blinked a few times and then kept walking, smiling and waving at Papyrus and Frisk, and Toriel relaxed. The woman's dog seemed rather eager to go meet Papyrus, but the woman didn't let it, apologizing to them for it's over-eagerness and barking as she walked past. 

After about half an hour, Toriel decided it was about lunchtime. She went outside and stood on the porch, calling to the child.

“Frisk! It's lunchtime, child!” Frisk pouted at her, clearly unhappy at being pulled away from what looked like a very strange game of football, and started signing excitedly. 

_ ‘Come check this out!’ _

They motioned towards them and Toriel stepped off the porch, crossing the green lawn to where Frisk and the brothers were standing.

_ ‘C’mon, show her!’  _ Frisk signed and Papyrus, who grinned. 

“ALRIGHT, HUMAN! TORIEL, PREPARE TO BE AMAZED BY THE GREAT PAPYRUS AND HIS BROTHER SANS!”

Papyrus and Sans took a few steps back from each other, lifting their arms. Sans was sporting his usual Cheshire grin, but now there was a tension to it that made Toriel slightly uneasy. 

“um, if you're sure, paps--”

“OF COURSE I’M SURE! OKAY, READY, SANS?”

“ready, bro.”

“1…”

“2…”

“3!” “3!”

After a nearly imperceptible moment of hesitation, Sans’ left eye lit up a brilliant cyan, and Papyrus’ eyes glowed a bright orange, and beams of colored magic erupted from their outreached hands, colliding with each other and shooting into the sky, creating a fountain of cyan and orange magic. Toriel craned her neck to look up--the magic seemed to go up for about twenty feet before petering out.

“NOW, FRISK!” Papyrus shouted, never taking his eyes off his magic, a small bead of sweat dripping down his skull as he focused on controlling the huge amount of magic. Sans glanced at Frisk and winked, seemingly unbothered by the excessive use of magic in the least, almost as if he was used to doing far more than this. It was rather odd, seeing as he was such a lazybones. Frisk picked up the football sitting on the ground and swung it back and forth, squinting their eyes at the place where the magics met, aiming carefully. Finally, they let go, and the ball arched gracefully towards it's target, seeming to almost float towards the base of the fountain. Then it entered the crossed beams, and shot into the sky like a rocket, propelled by two strong beams of antigravity magic. Toriel gasped, watching the ball as it spiraled upwards, it's momentum taking it far past where the magic stopped before it slowed down. Sans and Papyrus dropped their arms in perfect tandem, the magic dissipating without hitting anything, and all four of them watch as the ball started it's descent. 

“UMMM…SANS?”

“yeah, paps?”

“DOES THE BALL SEEM TO BE FALLING A BIT...OFF COURSE?”

“...uhhh...yep.”

_ SMASH!  _

They all stared in horror as the ball, pushed by the light breeze, landed across the street, crashing through a skylight on the house across the street.

“OOPS.”

 

.o.O.o.

 

Joseph Edward McCallum was a simple man. He didn’t ask for much from life, merely his paints, his pet cockatiel, Buddy, his garage, and maybe a good book or two. He led a rather uneventful life, but after coming home not-quite in one piece from the vietnam war, he had learned to appreciate a mundane existence. Well, as mundane as it could get with literal monsters roaming the streets.

Heh, that had been a shock. Luckily, they all seemed very friendly. He was pretty sure a few had even moved into the neighborhood, though he wasn't sure where. Maybe the house on Adam St. That was for sale? Well, wherever they had moved in, he was sure--

“HUMAN! YOU WISH TO PLAY FOOTBALL?”

Joseph raised an eyebrow as the loud, reedy voice shouted, so loud he could hear it through the windows. He set down the book he had been reading and pulled aside the blinds, trying to see who was shouting. When he spotted them, it was all he could do to keep his jaw from falling off--there was a kid in the yard across from his house, holding out a bright pink football to two skeletons.

_ Well, I'll be damned. _

The monsters didn't take the house on Adam St. after all. He watched as the kid and the two skeletons started up a really really weird game of football, grinning slightly. There weren’t too many kids on the block, it was nice to see some outdoors play. He kept waiting to hear the giggle of the kid, but he never did. In fact, he never heard a word out of the kid, and after catching a few snippets of sign language, guessed that they must be mute, seeing as neither of the skeletons ever signed to communicate. 

He went back to his book after a few minutes, but his mind wasn’t on the text in front of him, interesting as it was. There were monsters living across the street from him, he was neighbors with  _ skeletons  _ now, wasn't that a twist? Ever since his wife had died seven years ago, his life hadn’t been very exciting. There hadn’t seemed to be that much point in going on adventures without Evie, and they never had kids. There were a few guys from the veterans club he saw sometimes, but they were pretty pessimistic most of the time, so he didn’t hang around with them too often. So mostly it was just him and some paint and some books and Buddy, and the most exciting thing to happen was an experiment gone wrong (read: a minor explosion in his garage.)

But now there were skeletons living across the street from him, and he got the distinct feeling that things were about to get a lot more interesting around here.

And if the volume of that one skeleton’s voice was anything to go by, it wouldn’t be hard to know about anything interesting that happened over there. He could hear pretty much everything the taller skeleton said, though he tried to block it out. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, even if he still would’ve been able to hear him from a mile away. He buried his head in his book and read intensely, focusing on the mechanics of...god he didn’t even remember what he was reading about, because he was so focused on reading and--

_ SMASH! _

_ what the hell…? _

Joseph looked up from his book as Buddy squawked indignantly and flitted from his perch by the window to the top of his cage. That had sounded like it came from upstairs. What happened? Had a vase fallen over or something? Buddy sometimes knocked things over but...he was here in the living room, so it couldn't have been him. 

Joseph stood up from his chair, wincing at the pain in his left leg. (His right leg never gave him any trouble, mostly because three-quarters of it was prosthetic.) He exchanged one last look with Buddy and started to go upstairs. He rarely went upstairs anymore, but there was a good reason now. Perhaps...it occurred to him that perhaps there was a robber in the house. He frowned, and grabbed his old army pistol, holding it down at his hip with a trembling hand. Why did he even still have that? As old as he was, his aim would probably be garbage anyways. But Joseph knew as well as any other soldier the power of just holding a gun in your hand, shaking or no. He felt the familiar adrenaline that always accompanied the weight of the gun in his hand, and started up the stairs, quiet as a mouse.

When he got to the top of the stairs, he paused, listening for any sounds, any footsteps or bumps or scrapes that would indicate an intruder in his home. But after about 30 seconds of silence, he moved forwards, casting his eyes around the hallway, every nerve in his old body singing with anxious energy. It sounded like the crash had come from his bedroom, which faced the street, and he took a deep breath before placing his open hand on the brass doorknob, steadying his breathing before twisting it ever so slowly...the door swung open, and he immediately held the pistol up at the ready, gripping it with both hands.

“Who’s there?!” he shouted, but there was no answer. He frowned, and took in the scene…

A window was broken, there was a sprinkling of shattered glass on the floor...

And a bright pink football was sitting next to his bed.

Joseph dropped the pistol and couldn’t help but laugh, the nervous energy dissipating and leaving him feel almost weightless as he chuckled. There was no robber, no need for a gun. The kid or one of the skeletons across the street had accidentally kicked their football through his window, that was all.

“Joseph, you daft old man, since when were you scared of sports equipment?” he admonished himself with a chuckle, setting the pistol on his bedside table and picking up the football, carefully sidestepping all the broken glass. He would clean that up later, for now, he needed to return the football. It was time to meet the new neighbors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, the next chapter should be up soon! Let me know what you guys think of this!  
> Up next: Who's the old guy? Skeletons? Handshakes? Puns? (of course puns, ya'll ain't stupid) and more!


	2. Chapter 2 - Welcome! Welcome!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the new neighbors Feat. suspicious and overly protective sans, a pesky bird, and pilfered memories of my youth with my own grampy!

“Oh, dear.” Toriel brought her hand up to her mouth, which had fallen open in horror. They hadn't even been here 24 hours, and they had already broken a neighbor's window!

“uh, maybe we should go inside now?” Sans suggested, but Frisk shook their head.

 _‘what about the ball?’_ they signed petulantly.

“we can get you another one, kid, let's scram before whoever it is comes out.” he said with a nervous chuckle, placing a bony hand on Frisk’s back and attempting to guide them back towards the house.

“NO.” Papyrus said decisively. “WE MUST FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF OUR ACTIONS.” He continued seriously, looking across the street at the house. Sans paused in his attempt to drag Frisk back into their own home, regarding his brother with a hesitant and slightly awed smile. His brother was so cool, always trying to do the right thing…

“PLUS, THAT WAS A PRETTY SWEET BALL.” He continued, and Frisk nodded enthusiastically. It had been a birthday present from Monster Kid not long ago, and they were eager to get it back.

“Yes, I believe an apology is in order for the broken window anyways.” Toriel agreed, and Sans sighed.

“alright, then, I just hope they’re not too _broken up_ about it.” Sans said, and Toriel sniggered as Papyrus slapped a hand over his face in exasperation. Frisk was already heading off across the street.

“Child, wait!” Toriel called, hurrying after them. Frisk paused, and Toriel grabbed their hand. “You must be careful crossing the street, Frisk.” she said. Frisk nodded happily enough, though there wasn’t a single car in sight to be worried about. The four of them crossed the street, walking up to the front door of the house. Toriel knocked on the door, while Frisk peeked through the small, thin windows on either side of the door. The glass in them was kind of warped, but they thought they could see some paintings hanging on the wall that didn’t look like they had an actual subject, more like whoever the artist was had merely thrown some paint against a canvas and called it good. Frisk frowned. They hadn’t seen many paintings before, and the one they remembered most was the one depicting the history of Temmies, which had been admittedly strange, but they were sure they had never seen a painting quite like _that_.

After a few moments, the door swung open, revealing an old man with a warm smile. His hair was a soft white, and wisped about his head like a cloud. His eyes were pale blue and crinkled around the edges by his smile, and he was holding Frisk’s football in his hands.

“Ah, I take it this is yours?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“YES! WE ACCIDENTALLY SENT IT FLYING THROUGH YOUR WINDOW!” Papyrus exclaimed, and Sans glanced down, scratching the back of his skull.

“sorry about that.”

“Yes, we really are, and we can pay for the damage to--” Toriel started speaking, but the man held up the hand that wasn’t holding the ball, cutting her off.

“No need to worry about it, these things happen. But it must have been quite the kick to get it all the way up there!” he chuckled good naturedly, and Frisk shook their head.

_‘no, they got it up there using ma--’_

Sans reached up and stilled the human’s hands with a nervous grin.

“yeah, quite the kick, yup.”

The man looked between them for a second, clearly wondering what the kid had been trying to sign, but then grinned again.

“Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you the ball back, on one condition.”

“condition?” Sans asked, narrowing his eyes slightly in suspicion. The man turned to the shorter skeleton, unsure of why he seemed so jumpy--did he seem threatening or something? Hmmm… his grin turned mischevious, and he looked directly at the short skeleton as he spoke.

“Oh, yes, a most terrible, frightening condition; it will truly test your morals, ethics, and abilities in every way possible!” At this point all the monsters as well as the kid were looking wary, and then the man stepped back, gesturing into the house with a wide, laughing smile.

“You must join me...for lunch!”

 

.o.O.o.

 

“on one condition…”

Oh, here it comes. Sans narrowed his eyes, shifting to stand slightly between the kid and this old guy. This old guy that they didn't know, and who's home they had damaged (albeit inadvertently). He had heard of humans killing each other for less.

“condition?” he questioned, and the man raised an eyebrow at him with a grin. Here it comes. They were in trouble now, humans were cruel, he knew this, all monsters knew this, he had heard the stories.

“Oh, yes, a most terrible, frightening condition; it will truly test your morals, ethics, and abilities in every way possible!” oh fuck, they were so screwed. Sans began feeling around for shortcuts, testing the fabric of reality around him and searching for loose threads.

“you must all join me…”

What, in his torture basement? There weren’t any shortcuts, he would have to fight, shit, he couldn’t let this guy hurt any of his family--

“for lunch!”

...oh.

The smile on the man's face was warm and genuine, and Sans felt his face heat from embarrassment, his unbridled and apparently unnecessary panic draining away in the face of what he now saw was a harmless joke. _Torture basement_ \--what the hell was he thinking? This human wasn’t upset, he was friendly, and Sans had just been 100% prepared to gaster blaster him to smithereens. Damn. He really needed to calm down. There weren’t going to be any more genocide runs, after all, there was nothing to worry about.

The kid had promised.

He looked down briefly, trying to calm his racing non-heart while Frisk nodded their head enthusiastically and stepped through the doorway into the man's house without another word. Papyrus and Toriel followed them in, leaving Sans alone with the man on the porch.

“Joseph McCallum.” the man said simply, sticking his hand out, his grin settling into something more watchful. “I honestly have no intention of causing you all any trouble. I just wanted to get to know the new neighbors, and it'd be a shame to waste a good opportunity.” He spoke calmly and rationally, and Sans blinked, looking up at the man.

_It'd be a shame to waste a good opportunity…_

Where had he heard that before? He felt a shiver rattle down his spine, he could have sworn…no. nevermind that, it was time for him to start acting like a responsible adult now, no more childish fear. He was past that.

“i’m sans. sans the skeleton.” he introduced himself, putting his own ever-present grin back up as he reached out, shaking the man's hand.

_Pppttthhhhbbbttbbttbtbbbtt!_

His grin widened. Well, maybe being a _responsible_ adult was a bit of a tall order. The man looked genuinely shocked for a moment, staring down at their clasped hands in dead silence. Then he burst out laughing, a rich, yet raspy sort of laugh that threw his head back and left him gasping for breath slightly.

“Is that...oh, is that a _whoopee cushion?!_ Wow, I haven't seen one of those in years!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Oh, I think we'll get along famously, Mr. Skeleton.”

Sans’ grin relaxed, and he chuckled as he stepped through the door.

“just sans.” he said.

“Alright, Sans it is then!” Joseph closed the door and turned to the rest of the group, who were standing in the entryway. “Ah, I must introduce myself to you lovely folks as well, my apologies. I'm Joseph McCallum.” he stuck out his hand to Toriel, who introduced herself politely, then turned to Papyrus, who introduced himself as “THE GREAT PAPYRUS, NYEH HEH HEH!” and nearly tore the poor man's arm off his his handshake. The man didn't seem perturbed by this however, and turned to Frisk, kneeling down slightly to diminish the height gap.

“what's your name, young man?” he asked. Frisk frowned, and Sans’ grin tensed, his eye lights dimming slightly.

“frisk is agender.” he said, watching the man carefully for a reaction. The man raised an eyebrow for a moment, then nodded seriously.

“I can respect that.” he said, and stuck out his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Frisk.”

Frisk grinned broadly and shook the man's hand gently. The man frowned at this, and paused only for a moment before asking quite seriously, “Frisk, do you shake a lot of people's hands?” Frisk nodded, and signed at the man,

_‘yes, I'm an ambassador for all monsterkind, I have to meet a lot of people. So...lotsa handshakes!’_

The man blinked a few times before shaking his head.

“Oh. Erm… I'm sorry, I don't speak sign language.” he said sheepishly. Sans decided to throw the man a bone, especially considering how well he had handled the non-binary thing. Couldn't be a winner at everything.

“that's okay, it takes a lot of _hands-on_ learning to get it.” he said with a lazy wink. Papyrus groaned and covered his face with his hand, and Joseph chuckled, mentally noting that Sans was definitely a jokester, and most likely a terrible punster at that. After all, there were only two kinds of people in the world--those who hated puns, and those who made them endlessly. Joseph saw Toriel giggle, and noticed Sans glance at her briefly. Was he seeing things or did that rictus grin relax slightly when the goat monster laughed? Hmmm…

The short skeleton translated for Frisk, and after hearing the statement about the child’s job, the man's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Ambassador for all monsterkind? At your age? Wow, that's a lot of responsibility!” he exclaimed. “And that makes handshakes even more important.”

 _‘why?’_ Frisk signed, and Sans translated.

“Well, you can tell a lot about someone from their handshake. Here--” he paused, and seemed to realize that there were still four guests standing in his entryway.

“Oh. Well, actually, why don't we move to the sitting room, and I can tell you there. I'm sorry, I haven't exactly had visitors in a while.” he said, moving through a doorway into a warm, peach colored living room. None of the furniture looked like it ever got used, except for a reading chair by the window. As they all sat down, Joseph tossed the ball onto the chair and turned back to Frisk.

“Now. You can tell a lot about a person by their handshake, so it's important to have a good, strong one. Especially if you're working with politicians--they tend to put a lot of stock in handshakes and body language.”

Huh. Sans didn't know much about politics, especially human ones, but he wouldn’t have guessed that handshakes were so important. Frisk apparently didn't know either, as they looked rather shocked.

“so, here, take my hand.” Joseph held out his hand for a handshake and Frisk took his hand gingerly.

“Now, what I want you to do, is _squeeeeze_ my hand as tightly as you can. Go on!” frisk glanced back at Toriel, unsure, and she nodded with a small smile of encouragement.

“you might as well give it a fair _shake_ , kiddo.” Sans quipped, and they turned back to Joseph, trying to figure out if he was serious. He nodded, and they took a deep breath, squeezing his hand for all they were worth. He laughed, and said

“C’mon, I know you can do more than that! Gimme all you got!” he said, and Frisk squeezed harder, scrunching up their face with the effort.

“Oh, oh ouch!” the man exclaimed, a tad melodramatically. “Okay, pull it back a bit, you're gonna break my hand!” he exclaimed jokingly, sinking down to the ground as if in immense pain.

“FRISK, DO NOT BREAK THE OLD HUMAN!” Papyrus exclaimed worriedly, and a grey bird that Sans had somehow not noticed squawked at the tall skeleton in surprise. Joseph winked at Papyrus over Frisk’s head.

“There we go, that's perfect!” Joseph said to Frisk, who was now holding his hand in a secure, confident grip. “Now we shake!” they shook a few times, and then let go.

“Perfect! You're gonna knock all those politician’s socks off!” the man exclaimed, and Frisk smiled hugely, jumping up and down and running over to Toriel and tugging on her dress. Joseph smiled fondly at the eager child before turning to Sans and Papyrus.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asked.

“I WOULD LIKE A GLASS OF MILK, PLEASE.” Papyrus asked, and the bird squawked again at the loud noise.

“Oh, you hush, Buddy. No screeching at guests.” Joseph admonished the bird, who chittered in a way that Sans could have sworn sounded annoyed.

“Anything for you, Sans?” Joseph asked, looking to Sans.

“i’m fine, thanks.” he said, and Toriel shook her head similarly, glancing up from Frisk, who was signing excitedly. The man left to get the milk, and Sans watched as Frisk went around the room, showing them all their new handshaking skills. He felt a sudden weight on his skull and glanced up to see the bird leaning down over his face from its new perch. It tilted its head at him, and he grinned.

“hey.” he said, and it whistled. _“Hello, hey, hi!”_ it said, and Sans couldn't help but chuckle. He whistled back at the bird, and it bobbed its head, whistling back.

_“Welcome! Welcome!”_

Joseph came back in with a glass of milk, which he handed to Papyrus as he chuckled at the bird.

“Well, he certainly likes you.” he said with a grin. “Shall we have lunch? You just have to try the McCallum family Philly cheesesteak, it's absolutely _to die for._ " the man winked at Sans, who laughed at the joke, startling the bird on his head into taking off and squawking indignantly. 

Yes, he felt very welcomed, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you think! (I know there were less puns in here than everyone would like, but the next chapter will be better with that, promise.)  
> With any luck, the update time for this story should be about a week to a week and a half, pending schedules and the occasional Council Mandated Writers Block.  
> Up next: Stories over sandwiches, school adventures, and FUN! SCIENCE! OF! DUBIOUS! PURPOSE! AND! SAFETY!


	3. Chapter 3-SCHOOL AND SCIENCE

They were all sitting around the table in the breakfast nook--the dining room seemed a little formal for an impromptu lunch, after all--and Joseph found himself nose-deep in one of the most interesting conversations he had had in, hell, twenty years? More?

“no, undyne could totally win in an MMA fight!” Sans was insisting, but Frisk shook their head.

 _‘No, MMA fights have really strict rules! And if you don't follow them, you lose. Undyne would totally ignore the rules, so she’d get D-I-S-Q-U-A-L-I-F-I-E-D.’_ Frisk finger-spelt out the last word, apparently not knowing the sign for it.

Since Sans had become an active participant in the conversation, he had stopped translating Frisk’s signs in favor of responding to them. Now Toriel was speaking what the child said so Joseph could keep up.

“Then perhaps she could try boxing? They're a little less strict with the rules, especially in underground rings and such.” Joseph put in. He was rather intrigued by this “Undyne” character, given the brief description that had been tossed his way when she was mentioned.

“UNDERGROUND BOXING RINGS? I DON’T REMEMBER HEARING ABOUT ANY, AT LEAST IN SNOWDIN…” Papyrus said thoughtfully, rubbing his jawbone.

“Where's Snowdin?” Joseph asked, and Sans piped up, “it's the town we used to live in, back underground.”

“Ah. Oh, I didn't mean underground literally, Papyrus. I meant the not exactly legal, under-the-radar type underground. They're usually way more violent, don't have rules, and involve a lot more betting. From what I hear.” he tacked on hastily when Toriel raised an eyebrow at him. There was something about her, something in her calm voice, or regal posture, or kind smile, that made him feel like he needed to be on his best behaviour, like his mother was in the room, or the Queen of England, or something. He couldn't quite figure it out.

 _‘That sounds awesome!’_ Frisk signed, and although neither Toriel nor Sans translated, Joseph got the gist of it, based on the kid’s wide, sparkling eyes and the fact that they were jumping up and down in their seat a little. He chuckled.  

“Well, I certainly wouldn't recommend trying to get into one yourself, but if you want, I believe I have a few books with underground rings in them. Do you like adventure stories?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. Frisk grinned.

 _‘I live in an adventure story!’_ they signed with a giggle, and Toriel smiled fondly while Sans near about fell out of his chair laughing.

“What?” Joseph asked, glancing at Toriel. She chuckled.

“They said, ‘I live in an adventure story!’” she said, and Joseph looked around at the people around his table and chuckled to himself, unable to disagree.

“Well, I must say, I feel honored to make an appearance in it. Now, let me clear the table, and then I'll get you those books, hmmm?” he said with a wide grin, standing up and gathering plates. He had forgotten how much he loved entertaining guests, meeting new people and sharing conversation. It was invigorating, how had he ever thought that books could compare? He felt a tug on his shirt and looked down, snapped out of his musings.

“Yes, Frisk?” he asked. The child signed something he didn't understand, then paused, and drew a circle in the air before miming a kick. Joseph paused for a second before the message registered.

“Oh, yes! Your ball! Of course.” he left the plates in the sink, and moved to the sitting room, Frisk right behind him. He picked up the bright football and handed it to Frisk.

“There you are. Would you still like to see those adventure stories?” he asked hesitantly, unsure of whether it was okay to loan rather violent books out to a child he had just met. But Frisk responded with such overwhelming confidence that he laughed and was immediately at ease.

“Well, let's go then!” he said, and started towards the room he used as his study. Frisk followed behind him, and watched silently as he opened the wooden doors, imbedded with large glass panes that let you see inside. He stepped into the study and crossed the room to the largest piece of furniture he had in his house--his bookshelf. Frisk moved to stand beside him, gaping up at the shelves of books that were even taller than Joseph, and covered the entire wall.

“This shelf here is the adventure stuff.” he said, pointing to one that was just about Frisk’s eye level, luckily. They looked at the shelf, and tilted their head to their side to read the titles on the spines. Joseph started pulling a few that he knew had underground fighting rings of some sort. Once he had them all, he offered them to Frisk, showing the books to them one at a time, setting aside the ones they weren't interested in. In the end, Frisk picked four books in total, two of them about the mafia. Well, he supposed it couldn't be helped. He put those two on the bottom, thinking of Toriel, and then...

“Frisk? Joseph?” speak of the devil.

“Yes, we're coming!” he called, and led Frisk out of the study, holding their books for them as they had their hands full with the soccer ball.

“Oh, Mr. McCallum, you needn't have, Frisk and I were planning on visiting the library soon, you don't need to give away your books--” Joseph smiled and cut Toriel off gently.

“Just Joseph is fine Ms. Toriel, and don't worry, they're on loan and I'm happy to give them. Besides, You'll have to return them eventually and it’ll be a good excuse to get to see you all again!” he said with a wink.

The monsters left soon after that, promising not to be strangers, and thanking him for the lunch and books. As they walked across the street, Joseph smiled.

“Well, Buddy, it's nice to have a little more life in this old house, isn't it?” he asked.

 

“Well, that was very nice.” Toriel commented as they crossed the street. Frisk nodded happily, skipping in time with the larger monster’s feet, occasionally sneaking glances at the books Sans was carrying for them.

“YES, THE OLD HUMAN WAS QUITE KIND!” said Papyrus, and Frisk giggled.

“papyrus, you're gonna start confusing people if you call every human you meet “human”.” Sans said.

“AH, YOU MAY BE RIGHT. JOSEPH WAS VERY NICE, THEN.”

 

.o.O.o.

 

The next day brought great excitement to Frisk, as it was their first day of school. They got out of bed with extra vigour, pulled on their best striped sweater, and did a few dramatic poses they had learned from Mettaton in front of the mirror. He said they were a sure-fire way to feel fabulous, no matter the situation, and Frisk was a little nervous about school, so they figured it couldn't hurt. Frisk hadn't been to school for a few months even before their adventure in the underground for….reasons….but now they were going back and they were awfully excited, if a bit nervous. Toriel was going to be teaching at the same school, but she was teaching kindergarteners while Frisk was going to be a third grader.

Frisk trotted down the stairs, where they could smell waffles cooking in the kitchen.

“Hello, child, did you sleep well?” she asked, and Frisk nodded.

“That is good. Here, the waffles will be done shortly, why don't you pour yourself some juice?”

Frisk poured the orange juice, and when the waffles were done, they ate them with abandon. Goat mom made the best waffles, hands down. They were almost better than her butterscotch cinnamon pie. Almost.

After breakfast, Frisk grabbed their brand new backpack, full of their brand new school supplies, a healthy lunch, and one of Mr. Joseph’s books. They were about halfway through it and it was so good they had to bring it to school with them to read whenever they had time.

As Frisk and Toriel left the house, they saw that across the street, Joseph’s garage door was up, and the old man was standing inside the garage, wearing safety goggles and hooking up some tubes to some beakers full of oddly colored liquids. Frisk frowned, and turned to Toriel, letting go of her hand briefly to sign a question.

_‘What is he doing?’_

Toriel frowned slightly, squinting across the street to see better. Perhaps she needed glasses…

“I'm not sure, Frisk. Hello, Joseph!” she called out, waving to the man. Joseph looked up from his work, then smiled and set it down, walking out of his garage and towards them.

“Well hello, Ms. Toriel, Frisk. Off to school?” he asked with a grin. Frisk giggled--Joseph was still wearing his safety goggles and he looked rather silly.

 _‘What were you doing?’_ they signed, and Toriel translated. Joseph grinned hugely.

“I'm doing science! Perhaps you'll learn about it some in school today.” he said, and Frisk tilted their head.

_‘what kind of science?’_

The man’s grin turned mischievous, and his eyes twinkled.

“The fun kind! Tell you what, if you're up to it after school and your mom says it's okay, you can come watch! The materials should be ready by then. Whaddaya say?”

Frisk smiled and bounced slightly in their excitement.

 _‘Please, mom?’_ they signed, but Toriel looked apprehensive.

“Will it be safe?” she asked. Joseph scoffed lightly.

“Oh, of course! Frisk will be perfectly safe, it's a rather small experiment, and I'm going to be doing a test run beforehand to make sure there won't be any mishaps.” he said reassuringly. Toriel glanced down at Frisk, who was looking at her with sparkling, pleading eyes.

How could she say no to that face?

“Hmmm...alright. but why don't you have Sans watch too? If I remember correctly, he likes science as well!”

“Sure! The more the merrier!”

“Wonderful. Now, we must be off…”

“Oh, yes of course, have fun at school!” Joseph waved and the two continued the short walk to the school. Frisk grinned as they walked, the prospect of seeing a cool experiment after school filled them with determination.

 

.o.O.o.

 

They hadn't been expecting Monster Kid to be in their class, but Frisk definitely wasn't complaining. Despite their amazing success at making friends in the underground, Frisk wasn't generally a very social child, especially in a room full of strangers. It was an intense relief to see a familiar face and hear a familiar greeting.

“YYYOOOOOO!! Frisk!!” MK shouted across the room, dashing towards them and tripping over the rug. Frisk went to help him up, but he leapt up faster than they could get there, and headbutted them playfully in his version of a hug.

“Dude, you’re in this class too?! That’s so cool!” He said with a huge smile. Frisk smiled back and nodded, and the two picked seats next to one another. Suddenly, Frisk had a thought.

 _“Hey, MK, how are you gonna write?’_ Frisk signed. Without arms, and therefore, hands, they had no idea how MK would hold a pencil. but MK just grinned and wrapped his tail around a nearby marker and brandished it at them.

“I use my tail! Or my feet, but that gets a bit messy…” he said, and Frisk giggled. Then the teacher came in and started class, forcing their chatting to an unfortunate halt.

“Hello class, my name is Mrs. Thompson, and I’ll be your teacher this year. I’m really looking forwards to working with you guys! Okay, let’s take roll…”

The teacher called out kid’s names, and then they all raised their hands and said “here!” or, in MK’s case, just said “here” and Frisk just raised their hand. The teacher seemed slightly disbelieving at first that MK’s name was actually _Monster Kid_ , but in the end she just went with it. MK translated for Frisk, since the teacher only knew rudimentary sign language. The day passed rather smoothly, the kids working on writing (aka boring grammar worksheets), reading (aka the class reading an easy chapter book at a snails pace while Frisk read their mafia book under their desk), and math (aka what the actual heck is this, better ask alphys or sans for help on that) before it was lunch time. Frisk and MK grabbed their lunch bags and walked down to the cafeteria in line with their class, and ended up sitting at a table with a girl named Alicia, a boy named Ben, and a bird monster named Razzar.

“So, Razzar, MK, what was it like living underground?” Alicia asked, biting into her sandwich.

“It was super cool! I lived in Snowdin, so not much happened around there, unless Papyrus tried to give away pasta.” he said with a grin.

“Who’s Papyrus?” asked Ben. Frisk grinned.

 _‘He’s a skeleton! He’s really cool!’_ they signed, and MK translated.

“A skeleton?!” Ben asked, eyes wide. “That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, I lived in Waterfall, and I would see Papyrus sometimes too! He usually hung out with Undyne.” Razzar put in, and MK’s reaction was immediate.

“HE HUNG OUT WITH **UNDYNE?!** ” He shouted, forgetting his lunch in favor of looking like he had just been shown a mountain of candy. He turned to Frisk.

“Why didn’t you tell me Papyrus knew Undyne?!” Frisk frowned.

_‘I thought you knew!’_

“Wait, who’s Undyne?” asked Alicia.

“Yeah, who’s Undyne?” Ben added on, both humans looking confused. MK whipped his head between the two kids so fast Frisk was afraid it was gonna fly off.

“Who’s Undyne? Who’s _Undyne?!_ Only the coolest, most heroic, most strongest Monster EVER! She’s super brave, and amazing, and SO COOL!” MK was practically bouncing up and down with excitement, shaking the table.

 _‘She’s captain of the royal guard, and she’s a fish monster who uses spears as weapons!’_ they signed, but MK wasn’t looking.

“Hey, MK, what did Frisk say?” Alicia asked.

“Huh? Oh, sorry Frisk, I didn’t catch that.” MK watched the signs again, and then repeated them.

“A fish monster?” Alicia wrinkled her nose. “But fish are smelly and gross!” MK scowled at the girl, his excitement quickly morphing into anger at the insult to his hero, and Frisk tapped his shoulder before signing out something to diffuse the situation before it got worse.

 _‘Undyne’s not smelly, and she’s not gross! She’s not even a fish, she just...kinda looks like one. Like, Razzar looks like a bird, but he’s not, like, a robin or anything.’_ MK repeated Frisk’s message with angry, clipped words, glaring at Alicia.

“Oh. sorry MK. I guess she sounds pretty cool.” she said and MK nodded.

“She’s _super_ cool.” he said finally, like that settled the matter, and went back to eating his lunch.

After recess, which mostly consisted of tag with Alicia, Razzar, and Ben while staving off teachers who were worried about how often MK was falling on his face, the kids headed back inside. Neither Frisk nor MK noticed the strange looks the fifth graders were giving them, and walked back into the classroom chatting animatedly about the flag football games that were being set up towards the back of the playground. They had only seen the game in the last five minutes, so it had been too late to join in, but both of them were excited to play on Monday, today being Friday. That was, after Frisk explained to MK what flag football was. Apparently they didn’t have that game in the underground. But their conversation was cut short again when the teacher started talking.

“Alright class, I’m handing out to you a little worksheet, and we’re gonna learn about the solar system!”

They spent the rest of the afternoon learning about the planets, coloring in the pictures of them on the worksheet and writing down notes. Frisk thought that Pluto was kind of funny, going from being a planet to not being a planet and back again. After science, they went to the music room and spent the last half hour of school singing with the music teacher, Mr. Simmons. But then the bell rang, and Frisk and MK were whisked outside with a throng of kids, and Frisk remembered that they had an experiment to see, and suddenly hurried through the crowd, MK trailing behind them, skillfully weaving through the mass of people.

“Yo, Frisk! What's the rush?”

Frisk didn’t reply, as they would have had to turn around to sign to MK, and they really needed to be looking where they were going right now. But when MK caught up with them at the pick-up spot, they signed excitedly.

 _‘My neighbor is gonna show me a cool experiment when I get home!’_ Their hands moved in a flurry of enthusiasm, and apparently it was infectious, because MK’s eyes widened in surprise, and he bounced slightly.

“Dude, that’s so cool! You’ll have to tell me how it went tomorrow, okay? I wanna hear all the details!” Frisk nodded assent, and then spotted Toriel walking down the sidewalk towards them from the school. They waved goodbye to their friend and rushed to their mom.

“Well, hello, Frisk, how was your first day of school?” she asked with a warm smile.

 _‘It was great! MK is in my class, and we learned about the solar system and got to sing with Mr. Simmons, and Monday MK and I are gonna play flag football! Can we go home now?’_ Toriel chuckled.

“Eager to see that experiment, hmm?” She asked, and giggled again when Frisk nodded violently, their hair whipping around their face.

“Alright then, let’s get you home. Do you have any homework?” As they walked to the car, Frisk shook their head, and then hopped in the car as soon as it was unlocked, buckling themselves in and bouncing slightly in the seat.

_‘C’monnnn!’_

 

.o.O.o.

 

Sans was sitting on the couch, watching Mettaton’s new surface show, when he heard the knock at the door.

“yo, paps, someone’s at the door.” he called, and heard a responding clang from the kitchen.

“COULD YOU GET IT BROTHER? I NEED TO WATCH THIS SPAGHETTI!” Papyrus called back, and Sans sighed, then got up and shuffled to the door.

“oh, hey, frisk. what’s up?” he asked, looking down at the tiny human, who was practically vibrating with excitement.

 _‘Sans, Mister Joseph’s gonna do a cool experiment and Mom says I can’t go unless you go with me because she has work to do and she wants to make sure it's safe but i’m sure it is and it’s gonna be super super cool can you please come?!?!’_ The child’s hands were moving so fast Sans could barely read them, and he raised an eyebrow...eyebrow...bone? Eyeridge? you get the idea.

“A cool experiment, huh? at joseph’s house?” Frisk nodded wildly, bouncing on their toes.

 _‘Please Sans, please?!’_ they signed desperately, and Sans chuckled.

“yeah, yeah, kid. i’m comin’.” he said with a grin and Frisk punched the air.

“hey, paps, i’m goin out with frisk real quick, i’ll be back later.” he called over his shoulder.

“TELL THEM I SAY HELLO!” Papyrus shouted, and Frisk giggled, then grabbed Sans’ bony hand and dragged him out the door. He reacted just fast enough to shut the door behind him, and then they were off.

“woah, woah there, hold on frisk, i’m sure he’s not going anywhere.” He said amusedly, but Frisk didn’t slow down, instead dragging him across the street, and knocking feveredly on Joseph’s door. After a few moments, the door swung open, showing Joseph wearing a large stained apron and safety goggles on his head.

“Ah, Frisk and Sans, just who I was hoping to see! Come on in!” Joseph gestured with a grin inside, and Frisk bounced inside, looking around.

 _‘Where’s the experiment?’_ They signed, and Joseph squinted at the child, then slowly copied Frisk’s first sign while muttering to himself. Then he blinked and looked to Sans, repeating the sign. “This is “where”, right?” he asked, and Sans grinned.

“yeah, you been learnin’?” he asked, and Joseph nodded.

“An old man like me’s gotta pass the time somehow, and I've always wanted to learn a new language.” he said and smiled, pleased with his first correct semi-interpretation. Then he turned to Frisk.

“Well, I assume you're asking about the experiment, which is in the garage. But first I need to get you both some safety goggles, okay? Can’t have you getting hurt, or I think Ms. Toriel would have my head.” he said with a slightly uneasy grin.

“yeah, probably.” Sans agreed, and Joseph, paused, looking not very surprised but certainly wary, then nodded.

“Right. So. Safety goggles. Stay here a moment.” He bustled off, and came back with two pairs of brand-new safety goggles with black elastic straps, obviously bought that day, and handed them to Frisk and Sans.

“There you are.” Frisk pulled theirs on, and Sans helped them move a lock of hair that had gotten stuck in them, still holding onto his own goggles.

 _‘C’mon Sans, put them on!’_ Frisk signed.

“kid, you know i don’t have eyes, right?”

“Oh, come on, half the fun of science is looking cool in safety goggles.” Joseph said with a grin.

“I've worn safety goggles before and trust me, “cool” is definitely not the first word that comes to mind.” Sans said, but put them on anyway. The goggles just barely covered his eye sockets, and, well, they definitely looked funny. Frisk giggled, and Sans put a hand over where his heart would be if he had one, looking mockingly offended.

“you're laughin’ at me, kid? that hurts.” he said dryly, and Frisk giggled again before giving him a big hug, and he grinned at them.

“oh alright, maybe i can forgive you this time.” he said with a loud sigh, and Frisk nodded. Joseph chuckled, then clapped his hands together.

“Alright, now that we're all gussied up, let's go do some science!” Joseph exclaimed, and Frisk punched the air with with a small cheer. They ran ahead, looking for the garage, and Joseph laughed.

“Frisk, the garage is that way.” he pointed in the opposite direction of where Frisk had dashed off to, and Frisk did an about turn and ran to the garage, instead of the laundry room. Joseph quickly set off after the child, worried that they might enter the garage by themselves and accidentally hurt themselves. He was pretty sure he had moved all the toxic or corrosive chemicals out of the way, but despite the fact that half of the garage was a makeshift chemistry lab, the other half was still a garage, which was plenty dangerous for a child by itself. Just as Frisk reached the garage door Joseph caught up with them, and put out a hand on their shoulder.

“Hold on, Frisk, maybe you should stay behind me, alright?”

Frisk nodded, and Joseph preceeded them into the garage, giving it a quick once-over and sighing in relief when nothing seemed out of place or dangerous. He had, of course, checked this earlier today, but one could never be too careful with children. They were masters of getting into trouble, from what he had seen in his limited experience with them. He led Frisk to the main bench, with Sans ambling behind, looking around the lab half of the garage with appraising eyes.

“Okay, here we are. Welcome to the lab!” Joseph exclaimed with a grandoise hand gesture. Frisk looked awed, glancing at the flasks and such on the shelves.

“nice place.” Sans commented.

“Thank you. Now, Frisk, what do you know about science?”

_‘Really smart people do it! And you wear lab goggles, and lab coats and stuff! And there's a lot of bubbling liquids!’_

Sans translated all of that, and Joseph smiled. If that wasn't the cutest thing, he didn't know what was.

“Well, that's certainly a good start. Science, basically, is the study of the world around us so we can know more about it. And sometimes, to learn things, you have to do what are called _experiments_. And experiments are essentially creating an environment where objects will react in a way they don't normally, to see what happens. Now, usually when people teach kids about science, they start with something like a baking soda volcano or something boring like that, but we're going to do something a little more...exciting.” he said with a grin, and Frisk signed something to Sans quickly, looking confused.

“a baking soda volcano? oh, if you mix vinegar with baking soda it reacts and makes a bunch of foam. if you put red food coloring in it it looks like a volcano.” Sans explained, and Joseph nodded, setting up a tall graduated cylinder and a few beakers with different liquids in them.

“What we’re going to do today is a little experiment with iron and magnesium. Frisk, have you ever played with army men?”

Frisk nodded enthusiastically. Before they fell into the underground, when they had lived at...well, the point was, their favorite toys had been the few discarded army men, who they could pretend were any number of things by squinting a little and ignoring the guns slung around their plastic shoulders.

“Well, we're going to make some today. So, what we're going to need is--” he turned around and started rifling through the shelves behind him, setting each item on the bench as he listed them off.

“A small flower pot,” _tink._

 _“_ and few of these iron pellets,” _rattle._

“these neat little plaster army man molds I made today,” _tink, tink._

“a strip of magnesium,” _slither slither slide--_ “oh come back here, stay on the table. We're also gonna need a lighter, and some sand from that bag next to you. And finally--” _THUNK._ “this stand.”

Frisk watched with enthusiasm as the old man set out the supplies, tilting their head slightly at the stand he set on the middle of the table. They had never seen anything like it--the cinderblock base was discolored with scorch marks, and the tall metal pole sticking out of it had a little metal platform with a hole cut out of it attached to it near the top. Joseph picked up the small flower pot, and handed it to Frisk.

“Now, Frisk, you see how this flower pot has a hole in the bottom?” Frisk turned the pot over and saw that it did indeed have a small hole in the bottom of it. They nodded, and Joseph took back the pot, setting it on the stand’s metal platform so the hole in the platform lined up with the hole in the pot.

“That's important, because stuff is gonna drain out the bottom. But we don't want it to drain out right away, so we're going to put a piece of paper down under the pot.” he tore up a piece of paper into a small square and placed it under the pot, then realigned it.

“Now, we're going to fill the pot with sand. Do you want to do that for me, Frisk?” Joseph asked, and Frisk nodded excitedly. They didn't know what was going on exactly but they were eager to help!

“Alrighty then, one scoop from the bag should be enough.” he said and Frisk reached into the bag, grabbing the plastic scoop and scooping up some sand. The pot was too tall to reach, so they stood up on the little stool and leaned over the metal stand.

“Oh, Frisk, be careful--” Joseph started, but Frisk wasn't worried, feeling a boney hand grip the back of their shirt.

Sans wouldn't let them fall.

They filled the pot with sand, and then watched as Joseph described each next step as he did it. He dug a tiny little hole in the sand with his finger, careful not to move the pot, and then filled the hole with iron pellets. Then he let Frisk stick the magnesium strip into the pellets so a little bit stuck out, like a shiny silver plant. Then Joseph grabbed a mold and set it directly under the platform.

“Okay, now that the setup is done we get to the fun stuff. So, you see this magnesium?” he pointed to the shiny metal strip and paused for dramatic effect.

“...We're going to light it on fire.”

Frisk was caught between disbelief and amazement. What did Joseph mean? He had said the magnesium was a kind of metal, and you couldn't light metal on fire, right? Could you? Their face must have shown their confusion, because Joseph grinned wide as he explained.

“Oh, yes, magnesium burns. Quite brightly, too, so you shouldn't look at it directly. In fact, magnesium is one of the main components of fireworks!”

Frisk’s eyes went wide. They had never thought about what fireworks were _made of_ before, wow, Mr. Joseph had firework ingredients in his garage! That was so cool! But wait, did that mean…

 _‘Can you make fireworks?!’_ Frisk signed excitedly, and Sans translated. Joseph paused, cleared his throat, and laughed nervously.

“Erm. W-well, technically, I could. But. Making fireworks is a dangerous job best left to the professionals and besides, lighting off your own fireworks is illegal here. So. No, I don't make fireworks. Uhm. Anymore.” he fell silent for a moment, remembering the “fireworks” he had made before, in the army. How the boom could be heard for miles, how they had gone off with precision because he had made them so, how they burned as brightly as the sun overhead…

He... didn't really like fireworks anymore.

“Anyways!” he clapped his hands, dispelling the memories. He was doing science with a bright young child and a funny skeleton. Now wasn't the time for that. He could feel Sans’ sharp eyes on him, he could practically hear gears turning in that skull, and decided to put the science back on track.

“So, the magnesium will burn, very bright, and very hot, so hot that it will melt the iron! Then the iron will burn through the paper, and fall through the platform into the mold. Then you'll have your own little army man! Pretty cool, huh?” he grinned, and Frisk frowned and signed a question. Instead of translating, Sans answered Frisk’s question himself.

“the sand’s probably for insulation, right?” Sans asked, glancing at Joseph, who nodded. Frisk made a face, and Sans explained further.

“insulation basically means that it's gonna keep the heat from escaping.” Joseph nodded again.

“Yes, clay, like our little pot here, is a very good insulator by itself, but the sand is just to make sure the pot doesn't crack and leak molten iron everywhere.” Joseph said as he pulled a lighter out of a drawer.

“yeah, you could say that would be quite a... _hot mess_.” sans drawled, and Frisk giggled as Joseph raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Ignoring that…” he walked around the bench and pressed a button on the wall, closing the garage door so the only light in the room came through the tiny, grimy windows in said door. It was just barely enough to see by.

“This looks much cooler in the dark.” Joseph explained, clicking the lighter. A small flame danced in the darkness, illuminating their faces in a soft golden glow. Joseph had not taken into consideration how creepy Sans would look with just a hint of light playing over his bones, and lost his train of thought for a minute.

“so...you gonna light that puppy, or what?” The skeleton asked, and Joseph snapped back to.

“Oh, yes, of course, sorry. Now remember, do not look directly at the magnesium, or you can damage your eyes, alright Frisk?” Joseph asked, and the child nodded determinedly.

“Okay, here we go, in three, two, one…”

He touched the flame to the magnesium strip, which caught on fire and burned like a sparkler on steroids, hissing and spitting bright sparks and lighting up the room better than any lightbulb on the market. Everyone squinted as the magnesium “wick” burned down, until the bright light snuffed out as it hit the iron pellets. Frisk fidgeted when nothing happened, and turned to Joseph.

“Hold on, be patient.” He said, and Frisk turned back to the pot, which glowed ever-so-faintly red out the top. Then it glowed ever-so-slightly red out the bottom, and then…

A glob of bright red molten iron dripped out the bottom of the pot like syrup, falling into the mold below. Frisk gasped, eyes wide as a few more globs fell, the glowing, viscous liquid capturing their attention entirely. They had never seen anything like that before, they had never seen metal _melt_ , oh that was so cool!

“Alright, I think it’s done.” Joseph finally said, and walked around them again, pressing the button and opening the garage door. Frisk grinned hugely and stood up on the stool again, peering into the pot. As Joseph returned to the bench he saw the last vestiges of a blue glow inching the mold over so that if Frisk fell, they wouldn’t get a face full of molten iron and plaster.

Joseph grabbed a pair of weird-looking pliers from a nearby bench and used them to pick up the pot, holding it lower so Frisk could see it without standing precariously on the stool.

“Careful, this is very hot still.”

Frisk looked at the inside of the pot, the clay blackened and the sand still red-hot and the scent of burning dirt and hot metal permeating the air, reminding them strongly of Hotland. Sand leaked out of the bottom of the pot now that the paper was burned through, and fell onto the table. Joseph didn’t seem concerned about the mess. He set the pot down on the pile of sand on the bench, and then grabbed a two gallon bucket from under the bench.

“Here, Frisk, why don’t you go fill this up with water from the hose, and then we can douse our friend here?” Joseph asked, gesturing to the mold. Frisk nodded excitedly, grabbed the bucket, and dashed off. Joseph chuckled, watching them run off.

“If only I could bottle kids’ energy and sell it…” he mused, and Sans grinned.

“yeah, they never seem to stop, do they?” He asked, and Joseph nodded agreement as the sound of water hitting the inside of the bucket reached their ears. There was a pause, and then Sans cleared his throat, which was an interesting thing to hear from a skeleton.

“so...who’s your supplier? for the magnesium.” He asked. Joseph turned to look at him.

“An old friend from the army, I can give you his card if you want. You lookin’ to make your own fireworks?” He asked, a thin smile on his lips. Sans shook his head.

“nah, nothin’ nearly that _explosive_ , I just need a coupla base components for a project.” He said, winking at the pun and looking away as he mentioned the “project”. Joseph was just about to ask what kind of project, when Frisk came back, straining under the weight of the bucket. Water sloshed over the edges as they carried it in, and Joseph rushed to take it from them, setting it down next to the bench.

“Okay, now, this is gonna make a lot of steam, which will be very hot, so don’t put your face right over the bucket, okay?” Joseph said as he grabbed the mold with the weird pliers. Frisk nodded, and Joseph took the mold and dunked it in the water. Frisk jumped as their was a loud whooshing, hissing sound, and clouds of steam billowed out of the top of the bucket. After a few seconds, the steam stopped, and Joseph swished the mold around in the water a little bit before pulling it out, dripping, and set it on the bench.

“Now we just have to break it open!” He said, grabbing a hammer. “Who wants to do the honors?”

Frisk raised their hand frantically, and Joseph stifled a grin, looking around as if he couldn’t see them.

“Huh, nobody? Odd. Sans, would you like to--” Frisk whined, pulling on his shirt.

“Oh, Frisk! You want to do it? Are you sure? You don’t seem very enthusiastic…” he raised an eyebrow and Frisk frowned, practically jumping up and down on the stool. Joseph laughed and handed them the hammer.

“Go nuts, kiddo. Just don’t hit your fingers.”

Frisk grinned and took the hammer, swinging it as hard as they could and shattering the mold in one hit. Joseph froze in shock. Plaster wasn’t the hardiest of materials, but a kid like Frisk definitely shouldn’t have been able to practically disintegrate the entire block in one swing.

“W-wow, Frisk. That was...quite the swing you got there.” He stammered, and Sans grinned lazily.

“Yep, they’re a _force_ to be reckoned with, for sure.” He said, eyelights slightly darker than normal, and Frisk giggled, sifting through the dust for the new toy. Joseph blinked a few times, and filed that away for later thought, turning back to the task at hand. He picked out the army man and cleaned him off in the bucket before handing it to Frisk.

“There you go, one army man!” He said, and Frisk took the toy with careful hands, eyes wide and reverent. They were surprised by it’s weight, and how cool it was to the touch when just minutes ago it had been red-hot. It was a little lumpy, it seems the metal hadn’t completely filled the mold, leaving some holes in his torso and a lump instead of a right hand, but Frisk had never loved a toy more.

 _‘That was so cool Mr. Joseph! Thank you!’_ They signed one-handedly, grinning up at him. Then Frisk reached up and threw their hands around him, hugging him like he had gifted them with something precious, and he froze for a second before returning it.

“You are very welcome, Frisk.” He said softly.

 

.o.O.o.

 

When they got home, Frisk explained the whole thing to Toriel in quick, excited signs, and nearly vibrated out of their seat in excitement when they recounted how Mr. Joseph had said they could do another experiment next week.

The army man stood guard on Frisk’s bedside table, and it didn’t take long for Fire Fridays to become a sacred tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, guys I am SO sorry for the delay. This chapter just fought me at every sentence, and I had to take the SAT and ACT and finals and all that fun stuff, so I was really low on spare time. Anyways, here it is, finally.  
> Up Next! Ambassador Frisk! Wears a suit! And talks to old people who are also wearing suits! Frisk uses cuteness! It’s extremely effective! Because this is a fiction story and I can do that! Also Ice Cream vs. Nice Cream! And Babysitting! So many exclamation marks! Who will stop my reign of excited terror!
> 
> Fun fact: the idea for Fire Fridays came from my Honors Chem teacher last year, who would take us into the lab and do some random pyrotechnic demonstration every Friday. It was pretty much my sole reason for getting through the week. xD The experiment in this chapter was one she actually did, except we didn't make army men, just little globs of iron. Although I may be forgetting some things about the experiment, so don't try this at home, kids!


	4. Joey is the best babysitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I said some stuff would happen in this chapter, but most of it won't, sorry. It just would have taken too much space, and wouldn't really add to the story. Also, sorry for the wait, but the next chapter is already written, so you can definitely look for that in the next week. I'm super excited for that one!

Setting the pie on the counter, Toriel went over her plan for the PTA meeting in her head. She was pretty sure it would work, the only possible gum in the machinery was that frightful Helen…

_**~ Space unicorn, traveling through the sky! Delivering the rainbows, all around the world! ~** _

The ringtone was coming from her purse, which she had set on the table. It took her a few minutes of searching, but eventually she found the phone and flipped it open.

“Hello? Yes, I...oh, yes, no, I understand...I'm terribly sorry, do feel better dear...no, no, it's no problem at all, do not fret...yes, alright, goodbye.”

Closing the phone, she let out a sigh. Frisk’s babysitter was sick. She had to leave for the meeting in ten minutes, what was she going to do? She briefly considered sending Sans to the PTA meeting in her place but...no, she couldn't do that.

...not after what happened last time.

She didn't want to send Frisk over to the skelebros’ house while she was away either. They were very nice boys, but there had been too many instances of cooking...mishaps... that she didn't like that idea either.

And she sure as hell wasn't sending the poor child to  _Asgore’s_.

So who was left?

Suddenly a thought struck her, and she scrolled through her phone, before realizing she didn't have that particular number. Oh well. Quickly telling Frisk she would be right back, she opened the front door ands crossed the street.

 

.o.O.o.

 

When Toriel returned, Frisk was coloring on the carpet. She blanched slightly when she saw the picture--it was of a yellow flower with a sneering face. She let out a tense breath, remembering she needed to leave soon. Frisk was fine, that terrible creature was still underground, and it didn't really matter if Frisk drew it.

“Frisk?” she spoke softly, catching the child's attention. They looked up quizzically, and she delivered the news quickly, already making lists in her head for the meeting.

“Child, your babysitter is sick, so you'll be spending the evening with Mr. Joseph, alright?”

Frisk nodded excitedly. Over only a few weeks they had grown quite close to the old man, whom they had affectionately dubbed “Grandpa Joey” much to the man's delight.

“Alright, why don't we head over then.” Toriel asked, reaching out for Frisk’s hand. Frisk scrambled to their feet, grabbed their paper and markers, and grabbed goat mom's hand.

Once they got to Joseph’s house, Toriel left in a hurry, telling Joseph a few things like “make sure they eat a healthy dinner” and “their bedtime is 6 o’clock” and “don’t let them anywhere near cooking spaghetti” and other boring things. Frisk wasn’t really paying attention, already sitting down at the kitchen table and coloring. When Toriel left, Joseph shook his head in amusement.

“You go to bed at six?” he finally asked. Frisk nodded.

“Even on Fridays?”

Frisk paused. Joseph sounded surprised, a little skeptical, and a little bit...disapproving? There was an opportunity here, Frisk could smell it. They looked up at him, pulling a sad face, and nodded again. Joseph snorted.

“That’s crazy.”

Ooooohhhh was this real? Frisk must have died, bypassed the save screen, and gone straight on to heaven, because if Joseph was saying what Frisk thought he was saying...

“I mean, it’s Friday!”

Yes?

“You don’t have to get up early or anything tomorrow!”

Yyyeeesss????

“Six seems a little bit early…”

YYYYEEEEESSSSSS?!?!?!?!?!

“Maybe you can stay up a little bit tonight. I mean, you’ll still get plenty of sleep if you go to bed at eight, or even nine.”

_**GOD BLESS AMERICA!!!** _

Frisk jumped out of the chair and ran to Joseph, punching the air and grinning in excitement.

 _‘Thank you thank you thank you!’_ they signed, and Joseph chuckled.

“Hoo boy, do you ever get to stay up late?” Frisk shook their head. Joseph shook his head with a grin.

“Alright. Well, we’ll fix that, then. Hey, what’s this?” he asks, pointing to the drawing on the table. Frisk grins and picks up the paper, holding it up to show him.

 _‘That’s F-L-O-W-E-Y!’_ They sign, and Joseph nods. At this point, he’s good enough at ASL that he and Frisk can pretty much communicate, but sometimes fingerspelling is necessary, or writing.

“Hmmm. Hey, Frisk, have you ever painted?” Joseph asked, and Frisk frowned and shook their head.

“Hmm.” he hummed again, and then grinned down at the child with a mischevious twinkle in his eye that reminded them of Sans right before he pulled a prank.

“Say, Frisk. Do you like doing...uh, art...things? Like drawing?”

Frisk was rather confused, but nodded anyways. They did like drawing, the more colors the better.

“Do you like making messes?”

Frisk merely tilted their head at that, unsure of how to respond. Sure, making a mess was fun, but cleaning it up...not so much. Plus, adults generally didn’t like it when they made a mess.

“Well? You can be honest, I want to know; do you like making messes?”

 _‘I like making messes, but not cleaning them up.’_ they signed honestly, and Joseph’s grin grew wider. He leaned down, eye level with Frisk, and spoke quietly, like he was telling a secret.

“What if I told you that I knew of a way to do art, make a mess, AND not have to clean it up?!”

Frisk blinked. You could do that?

_‘How?’_

“I’ll show you. Come on!” Joseph turned and started walking down a hallway. Frisk quickly capped their marker, and threw it on the table before running off behind him, already excited. Joseph turned into a room and Frisk followed, seeing a few easels in the corner, some canvases leaning against a wall covered by a tarp, and a lone chest. But that was promptly forgotten as they stared at the walls and floor, which had splatters of paint in every color speckling their surface. What? It was obvious the walls weren’t  _supposed_ to look like that...it really was incredibly messy. Joseph grinned at them, and set up an easel, putting a canvas on it, and opening up the chest, pulling out a few cans of paint. Frisk kinda just stood there, unsure of what to do.

“Okay, Frisk. Have you ever heard of splatter painting before?” Frisk shook their head. Joseph pried open a can of paint and grabbed a cup from the chest.

“Well, it’s a form of painting, and it’s really very simple. I’ll show you, and then you can try, okay?”

Frisk shrugged. The old man seemed excited, but they were just confused. Painting was kinda boring, to be honest. They didn’t like mixing all the colors, and having to be really careful about not getting it all over the carpet, and--

_SPLASH!_

Frisk stared in slack-jawed shock as Joseph dipped the cup into the paint and filled it, and then flung the paint at the canvas. Some of the paint hit its target, but most just ended up on the wall.

“Like that!” the man grinned, and slowly, so did Frisk.

_‘You...you just...throw it?’_

“Well, you can fling it onto the canvas from a paintbrush or something, to get smaller splatters, but I think this is the funnest way to do it.”

_‘Can I try?!’_

“Yeah, go ahead! Which color do you want?” he asked, pointing to a small army of paint cans assembled on the floor. Frisk grinned and pointed to a can of bright orange, and the man grinned, opening it and handing Frisk a clean cup. “You don’t wanna mix the colors in the can.” he explained, and Frisk nodded. They walked in front of the canvas and stared it down, planning where they were going to try and get the paint to land. Okay, that looked good. On three.

One…

Twooo…..

Thr--

”WAIT!”

Frisk froze mid-toss, turning to look at Joseph, who had shouted.

“Sorry, I almost forgot.” he pulled an old, paint-splattered smock out of the chest, and slipped it over frisk’s sweater. The thing even had sleeves that covered the sweater sleeves. Then he slipped on a smock of his own.

“There you go. Now you can make all the mess you want, anywhere you want.” he said with a grin. Frisk nodded. The complete and total freedom to make a mess filled them with DETERMINATION.

This was gonna be great.

On three.

One….

Twwwooooo….

THREE!

_SPLASH!_

Frisk’s breath caught in their throat as the paint sailed in a graceful arc towards the canvas. It fell a little short, only hitting a corner of the canvas, the rest of the paint ending up on the floor and the easel. Oh no. They probably weren’t supposed to make  _that_ much of a mess… they turned to Joseph guiltily, hands reaching up to sign an apology, but they froze when Frisk saw the face-splitting smile the old man wore.

“Nice shot!” he crowed, looking down at them with so much pride that Frisk couldn’t help but smile and puff out their chest a little bit.

“You wanna do a separate canvas, or work on one together?” he asked, and Frisk signed that they could share one.

They took turns throwing paint at the canvas, and Joseph showed Frisk some fun tricks, like dunking a sponge in the paint and throwing that at the canvas, or loading a paintbrush with paint and flicking the bristles at the canvas to get a string of delicate speckles across it. After about fifteen minutes, they were both freckled with paint, the floor was even more of a mess than it was when they came in, and the canvas was a riot of random colors and splashes and smudges.

It was the most fun Frisk had had in a while.

“Wanna do another one?” Joseph asked.

Boy, did they  _ever._

About four canvasses later, one of which Frisk did  _all by themselves_ , they finally decided to call it a night, mostly because Joseph was running out of paint. The canvasses were lined up against the opposite wall so they didn’t get hit with more flying paint, drying in the last rays of the sun that streamed through the window. Frisk peeled off their paint-soaked smock carefully, trying to keep the paint from getting on their sweater.

 _‘Thanks Grandpa Joey!’_ they signed, and the old man grinned.

“No, thank you, Frisk. You’re usage of color was truly inspiring. And that flawless technique!” he made his voice sound snooty as he went on and on like some fancy art critic, causing Frisk’s shoulders to shake in a soundless giggle.

“Heheh, hey, let’s go get dinner started, alright?” he suggested, and Frisk nodded.

_‘What are we having?’_

“Chilli.”

Frisk nodded. They had never had chilli before, but Grandpa Joey was pretty good at cooking, so they were sure it would be great! It certainly beat snail pie or Papyrus’ “spaghetti”.

...Which was great! Really!

Super Great!

A quick glance around showed no sign of a short skeleton ready to give them a bad time for their blasphemous thoughts, and Frisk relaxed a bit. They sat down at the kitchen table as Joseph brought out a pot from a cabinet under the counter, and started packing away their markers. They didn’t really want to draw anymore. But, as they were packing their things up, they had a thought. They reached up to sign something, but Joseph’s back was turned. They tapped the kitchen table, but he didn’t turn around, still filling the pot with water. They frowned, and whistled, high and sharp. It was one of the few sounds they could make, and they had gotten very good at it. Joseph startled and turned around.

_‘Sorry, I had to get your attention.’_

“Oh, no problem. What is it?” he asked, and Frisk paused, hesitating slightly before they signed their next question.

_‘Do you mind...if a friend splatter paints with us next time? He loves making messes.’_

“Sure! The more the merrier, as long as your mom’s okay with it.” he replied.

 _‘It, uhm, might be difficult, he...doesn’t really have arms?’_ they signed. Joseph paused, thinking.

“Hmmm. That does throw a wrench in things. But I think we can manage something! Maybe a catapult of some sort…” he mused, already thinking up the various simple designs he could put together to throw paint.

_‘And, uhm, you haven’t met him. He’s uh, a little...much to handle? At first? He’s...very...enthusiastic.’_

Frisk signed hesitantly, and Joseph paused. Frisk was rarely hesitant about anything, but now they were glancing up at him through their bangs, their little signs shuffling and unusually awkward.

“Well. He’s your friend, you say?” Frisk nodded.

“Then I’m sure it’ll be okay.” he said with a reassuring smile. Frisk looked up.

_‘Really?!’_

“Yeah, sure!”

Frisk leapt from their chair, and raced forwards, throwing their arms around the man’s legs in a hug. Pulling back, they signed a string of thanks you’s, and the grin on their face was so wide it made Joseph’s cheeks hurt just looking at it.

“You’re very welcome.” he said. “Now, do you want to help me make chilli?”

_‘Is it like spaghetti?’_

“Ummm...sort of? It’s kinda like spaghetti sauce, but no noodles.”

_‘That’s weird. But okay!’_

It lasted about ten minutes. As soon as all the ingredients were in the pot, all that was left was to stir the chilli occasionally, and let it cook. Frisk soon became bored, and Joseph showed them to an old toy chest he had brought down from the attic a few weeks ago, and told them to grab whatever they liked and come play with it downstairs where he could keep an eye on them. He wasn’t a  _terrible_ babysitter, after all. He returned to the chilli, and after a few moments, he heard the pitter pattering of tiny footsteps running down the stairs. Frisk emerged into the living room with their toy of choice, and Joseph couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah, you found my old paddleball! Wow, I haven't seen that thing in ages. Y’know, I once won a world competition with that.”

Frisk’s eyes went wide in shock, and the man chuckled.

“Heh, just kidding. But I did win a buck off of my sister for hitting the ball 100 times in a row.” he grinned at the memory. As he continued to cook, Frisk played with the paddleball, missing more often than not. In fact, they were failing pretty spectacularly, but seemed to be having fun anyways, so Joseph let them be.

“what's that?”

Joseph jumped about a foot in the air when Sans spoke, nearly spilling the chilli.

“Oh, god, Sans! A little more warning next time? You're going to give me an actual heart attack one of these days.”

Sans chuckled, and glanced back at Frisk as the rubber ball missed the paddle yet again.

“seriously though, what is that?”

“Oh, just an old paddleball. Have you never seen one?” Joseph asked, and Sans shook his head. Joseph took it in stride. What with monsters only knowing human culture through trash that fell into the mountain, them knowing about anything invented after they got sealed underground was pretty hit-or-miss.

“Well, they work like this. Frisk, would you mind?” he set down the spoon and turned down the heat to a simmer. Frisk shook their head and handed him the paddleball.

“Now, I'm a bit rusty, but…”

He shook the thing, and within a few moments, the ball made contact with the paddle, and a few moments after that, there was a steady, quick rhythm of rubber against wood.

_thok-thok-thok-thok-thok!_

“is that it?” the skeleton asked, raising an eyebrow, without having any, somehow. Joseph let the ball miss, and it swung on its string as he held it out towards him.

“It's tougher than it looks.”

Sans looked at the paddleball, considering the unspoken challenge, then reached out and took it, flipping it over in his hands.

“doesn't look too hard.” he mused.

“Then go ahead, try it.” Joseph said with a smirk. Sans held the paddle so the ball hung below it, then jerked the paddle up slightly. The ball bounced a bit, but otherwise didn't even make it close. Sans moved the paddle faster, and the ball flew past the paddle, nearly hitting him in the face. Sans jerked back to avoid being hit, and narrowed his eye sockets in confusion. He shook the paddle black and forth, but the ball only flew wildly through the air, wrapping around the paddle before falling still.

“how does this work?!” he asked, and Joseph hid a grin behind his hand.

“Just takes some skill.” he said, as Sans wildly shook the paddle more, with no success.

“there's gotta be a trick to this…” Sans muttered as he continued to attempt to get the ball to hit the paddle. Joseph focused intently on the chilli, definitely not holding back laughter as Sans tried to figure out paddleball. Definitely not. After about ten minutes, Frisk asked Sans if they could try again, but Sans told them he “almost got it kid, just gimme a sec.” and the child rolled their eyes, and whistled for buddy, who sat on the couch a safe distance from Sans and the flailing rubber ball.

“hello hey hi! Hello hey hi!” the bird whistled, and Frisk grinned as they pet the bird. Sans tried pulling the ball far away from the paddle so it snapped back and hit it, but then couldn't get the ball to line up with the paddle again and the ball fell, swinging desolately. Sans growled at the thing, and tried again and again with no more luck for a good half-hour.

“Sans, Frisk, chilli’s done. Come eat.” Joseph said, automatically assuming that the skeleton would stay for dinner (he had never turned down free food before) but the frustrated skeleton shook his head. Joseph sighed.

“Come on, Sans, you can try some more after dinner.” Joseph said but Sans waved him off.

“i’m fine, i just need to figure this out.”

“Sans, come on.”

“...”

_‘dunkle sans, come on! Chilli!’_

“don't need to eat kid, you know it  _goes right through me._ ”

Joseph rolled his eyes, and pulled out his cell phone. He made a quick call, then started setting the table for four. A setting for him, Frisk, Sans, and the only other person San ever listened to, it seems. There was more than enough chilli for everyone.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

Well, that was fast...not that Joseph was surprised.

“Would you get that, Frisk?” Joseph asked. Frisk nodded, hopped off the couch, and went to open the door.

“HELLO, TINY HUMAN! HELLO, OLD HUMAN! HELLO BROTHER!”

Buddy squawked as Papyrus strode into the house. Joseph smiled at him and indicated the table.

“We were just about to sit down to dinner, and figured we'd invite you, since Sans is staying too.” he said, and Sans glared at him.

“THAT SOUNDS LOVELY, THANK YOU! SANS, ISN’T THAT NICE--SANS, WHAT IS THAT?” Papyrus asked, jumping backwards slightly as the ball went careening around the paddle again.

“paddleball.” Sans muttered as he tried it again. Frisk signed something quickly to Papyrus, who scoffed.

“WELL OF COURSE IT ISN’T WORKING, YOU’RE GOING ABOUT IT ALL WRONG!”

As he poured milk, Joseph looked up with interest. How did Papyrus not know what a paddleball was, but knew how to use it?

“You ever play paddleball before, Papyrus?” he asked. Papyrus shook his head.

“NO, BUT IT SEEMS SIMPLE ENOUGH.” he said. Joseph chuckled.

“That's what Sans thought.”

All of a sudden there was a strangled noise, and everyone turned to look at Sans, who was desperately clawing at his eye socket. The paddle was hanging off his face, the string leading up to the eye socket, where the ball had apparently flown in and gotten stuck. Papyrus shrieked, and Sans was panicking, and Frisk was trembling slightly as a blue glow filled the room, and Joseph had no idea what to do and the milk jug was slowly emptying onto the floor. Buddy squawked, adding to the general chaos, and Papyrus rushed to help his brother. After a few frenzied minutes, Papyrus managed to get the paddleball free, and Sans was pressing himself into the couch, as far as way from the toy as ways possible, his chest heaving like he had run a marathon.

“Is...i-is everyone...okay?” Joseph asked slowly. Shaky nods peppered the room, and he started cleaning up the spilled milk.

“h-heh, i guess i shouldn't have let that thing  _get to my head._ ” Sans said. Papyrus groaned, and the shorter skeleton chuckled as he went for another.

“yeah, guess  _eye_ shoulda  _seen that coming.”_

“SANS. PLEASE.”

“i suppose when I played the game  _iris_ -ked that happening.”

“OH MY GOD SANS STOP IT RIGHT NOW.”

“or what, bro? You'll  _socket_ to me?”

“AAAGGHHHHH!!!”

Buddy started screeching too then, and Joseph winced slightly at at the noise as he set down the glasses. Then he walked back to the living room with with the intention of telling everyone the table was set. But instead he paused as he saw Papyrus examining the paddleball.

“SURELY THIS THING CAN BE BEATEN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEVER BACKS DOWN FROM A CHALLENGE!”

“good luck, bro.” Sans snorted, but Papyrus merely “harrumph”-ed, and proceeded to grip the paddle, toss the ball slightly into the air, flick the paddle, and set the ball bouncing in perfect rhythm on the first try.

_Thok-thok-thok-thok-thok!_

The entire room was silent for about thirty seconds as Papyrus stared almost disinterestedly at the paddle before stopping it. The ball missed, and Papyrus caught it and wrapped it neatly around the paddle before handing it back to Sans.

“HONESTLY,  _THAT’S_ WHAT ALL THE FUSS WAS ABOUT?”

He was met with amazed stares. Buddy whistled softly.

 

“...you're so cool, bro.”

 

.o.O.o.

 

When the headlights of Toriel’s car pierced the darkness of the driveway, Joseph’s heart leapt into his throat. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him it was almost 10 o’clock. Much too late.

“Quick, Frisk, pretend you’re asleep!” he whispered. Frisk nodded, pulling the blanket off of the back of the couch and flopped down, closing their eyes and breathing deeply. Joseph had only a second to marvel at the kid’s acting abilities when there came a soft knock on the door.

“WHY IS FRISK PRE--UHMPH!” Papyrus’ mouth was quickly covered by Sans’ hand.

“the kid wasn’t supposed to stay up this late, but it’s okay. we just can’t let toriel know. It’s like a secret game, kay paps?” Sans whispered, and Papyrus nodded enthusiastically, eyes lit up in excitement.

“I WILL BE THE BEST SECRET-KEEPER! A ROYAL GUARD MUST BE SUBTLE, AFTER ALL!” he exclaimed, and Joseph was  _just_ able to keep himself from laughing at that as he opened the door.

“Hello Joseph.” Toriel said tiredly, a weary smile on her face. Joseph raised an eyebrow.

“I take it the meeting went well then?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Toriel huffed a laugh.

“You have no idea.” she entered the room and looked at Frisk, “sleeping” on the couch, and smiled.

“Were they good?” she whispered. Joseph nodded.

“Oh yeah, a perfect little angel.”

“Ah, wonderful. Hello boys.” she greeted Sans and Papyrus, who waved. She picked up Frisk carefully, who was as floppy as a ragdoll, looking perfectly dead to the world. Joseph chuckled.

“Alright, well, I should get them to bed, Joseph, do you mind if I pay you tomorrow--”

“Oh, Toriel, please, there’s no need. I was happy to spend some time with them.”

“No, but--”

“I won’t take it.” he said, grinning. “Like I said, I love seeing Frisk. That’s payment enough.” Toriel smiled.

“Thank you, Joseph.”

“Any time.”

Toriel left the house quietly, and Sans and Papyrus departed soon after, Papyrus saying something about a bedtime story. Joseph stood in his empty house, Buddy sitting on his shoulder, and smiled to himself as he sat down and picked up a book. What a lovely evening.

 

.o.O.o.

 

Frisk kept their eyes gently shut as they felt Toriel put them in pajamas and tucked them into bed. They kept their breathing deep and even until a few minutes after they heard the door click shut and Toriel’s footsteps retreat into her own bedroom, then their eyes snapped open. That had been so much fun! They really hoped Grandpa Joey got to babysit them again. But now, they needed to deliver some news. They crept out of bed, and pressed an ear to the wall, listening carefully for the sounds of Toriel’s snores. It took about ten minutes, but it was much better to be safe than sorry in this situation. Frisk was pretty sure that if Toriel found out about this, there would be dire consequences for everyone involved. But finally, they heard those train-rattle snores, and crept over to their window, pulling back the thick curtains and revealing a small form hidden behind them on the windowsill. The form shifted slightly, and Frisk grinned at it, signing quickly.

_‘Hey guess what? Grandpa Joey said you can come splatter paint with us!’_

“What the heck is splatter paint?” Flowey sneered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I guess there will be some sort of plot to this! cool!  
> As always, comment with your thoughts, I love hearing them! :)  
> EDIT" I just realized that I read all of your lovely comments from before, but never responded to them!! D: I'll reply to them all now, because lovely comments deserve responses, but just know that I DID see them before, and they DID make my day, every one of them. :)


	5. I'll remember with you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You knew there was gonna be angst. For god's sake, this is an Undertale Fic, Sans can't be happy all the time.   
> ...but things can get better.  
> (and things will get fluffier from here on out, I promise!)

 

Joseph had been having a pretty peaceful day, all things considered. He had woken up, fed Buddy, made some breakfast, and started reading a new book he had gotten from the library on catapults and other launching mechanisms. He was currently sitting in his living room, reading in a ray of sunlight, Buddy whistling idly from his perch, when the day’s lazy bliss had been shattered.

All of a sudden, someone was knocking at his door, very fast and very loud. And after a few seconds, it became apparent that they were not going to stop their assault on his door until he answered them.

“HOLD ON I’M COMING, CALM DOWN!” He shouted as he made his way to the door. He sighed, opened the door, and was immediately signed at rapid-fire by Frisk. They signed so fast he couldn’t even understand them, so he held up a hand.

“H-hold on there, Frisk, slow down. What’s going on?”

“we need to use your stove. paps and undyne broke ours and toriel won’t let us use hers so we need to use yours. it’s really important.” Sans translated, and Joseph merely looked at him in confusion.

Why did Sans have a pair of sunglasses taped to his skull? And why was he holding a trombone? Could skeletons even play trombone? They didn’t have lips, right?

“Wh—“

_ ‘PLEASE LET US USE YOUR OVEN GRANDPA JOEY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!’ _ Frisk signed desperately, and Joseph stepped aside, bewildered. Frisk punched the air, and then all of a sudden the two were just…gone. He blinked, staring at the stoop where they had been standing just a second before, but now it was empty.

“come on joey! we need your help with this!” Sans shouted…from his kitchen? Joseph took a deep breath, closed the door, and made his way to the kitchen, where Frisk was standing in front of his stove, now wearing sunglasses also, and Sans was standing just off to the side, holding out a camcorder.

“can you record this?” he asked.

“W-why? What are you going to do? And how did you even get in here, you were just on the porch!” Joseph asked, taking the camcorder.

_ ‘You’ll see! Now come onnn!!’  _ Frisk signed, and Joseph sighed.

“Alright, alright.” He muttered. “Which button do I press to start this thing?” he asked after a second.

“the red one.” Sans supplied, and Joseph found it, pressing the button and aiming it at the two.

“wait, no, you have to be standing here.” Sans said, pulling Joseph by the sleeve to stand about three feet to the left of where he had been. “there. now go.”

“Okay…? It’s recording.” He said, and Sans and Frisk both looked off into the distance, donning some of the best poker faces Joseph had ever seen, even though Sans was still smiling, as he always was. After a brief second of this posing, Sans took a deep breath, and brought the trombone up to his face.

_ Bwah, Bwah bah-bah-bah-bah-bah bwah bwah-bwah-bwah bwah bwaahh! Bwah, Bwah bah-bah-bah-bah-bah bwah bwah-bwah-bwah bwah bwaahh! _

All of a sudden, Frisk pulled open the oven door, and then slammed it shut, doing this repeatedly, in time with Sans’ trombone. Sans repeated the same melody a few times, and then they both stopped, Frisk slamming the oven door shut one final time with a decisive hair swish, looking up at the ceiling dramatically. They both froze, and Joseph merely looked on in fascination until Sans muttered “you can turn it off now.” Out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh! Sorry.” Joseph turned off the camcorder, and Frisk grinned, taking off the sunglasses and high-fiving Sans.

_ ‘That was AWESOME!’ _ they signed, and Sans nodded.

“thanks, joey.”

“Uh, no problem, you two. But, uhm, if you don’t mind me asking….what was that?!”

_ ‘When Goat Mom Isn’t Home!’  _ Frisk signed with a wide grin.

“…What?”

“wait, don’t tell me you haven’t seen the video!” Sans said incredulously. Joseph shook his head slowly.

“I guess I haven’t?”

Immediately, Sans pulled out his phone, and pulled up a video. He turned the phone so Joseph could see it, and the title underneath it, which read “when mom isn’t home”

“Okay, so I get the title now, but what…”

_ Bwah, Bwah bah-bah-bah-bah-bah bwah bwah-bwah-bwah bwah bwaahh! Bwah, Bwah bah-bah-bah-bah-bah bwah bwah-bwah-bwah bwah bwaahh! _

The music came out of the tinny speakers, the same melody Sans had just been playing. The little boy slammed the oven door just like Frisk had done. Even the dramatic head-toss at the end was the same.

“Well, I guess I get it now, but…”

_ ‘But what?’ _

Joseph grinned.

“You two definitely did it better.”

Frisk’s smile at that moment probably could have resulted in world peace, if broadcasted correctly. Sans also smiled hugely, and something about that smile made Joseph pause for a moment. Something about that huge, happy grin was strange, and it wasn’t until hours after the impromptu performers left that Joseph realized what it was. It wasn’t the smile that surprised him, but the rest of Sans’ face. In the near two months that Joseph had known the skeleton, he had never seen him  _ not _ smiling.  But this was the first one he had seen that seemed to reach Sans’ eyes. All of a sudden, that eternal grin Sans wore looked surprisingly…

...fake.

 

.o.O.o.

 

The bolt needed to be just a bit tighter... _ SNAP!  _ Sans recoiled on instinct was the top part of the wrench went flying across the room. With wide eye sockets, he looked down at the broken half of the wrench in his hand, it's now jagged edge glinting in the bright light. 

“huh.” he grunted, blinking. He set it down on the nearby bench and picked up the head of the wrench, which had slid under a standing tool chest. 

“didn't know these things could break like that.” he said, shrugging. Then, he checked the number engraved on the handle of the broken wrench and groaned. 

“it had to be the half-size, didn't it?” he asked. There were few bolts on the machine that  _ weren't  _ half size, so in order to make any more progress, he would need a new wrench. Except that was the only one he had. He frowned. The shop in town wasn't open this late, and he didn't want to stop working. The itching in his hands and the restless whirling in his brain was only quieted by continuing progress on the machine. Doing any other work during these quiet, still hours after night and before morning just felt wrong, and sleep was absolutely out of the question. Suddenly, he had an idea. Joseph was pretty handy, wasn't he? Maybe he'd have a wrench Sans could borrow until he could get to the store. But was he even up this late? Sans grabbed the broken half of his wrench and climbed the stairs to the ground level of the house, peeking out the window. Across the street, there was a light on and Sans could see the silhouette of Joseph reading a book in his chair by the window. Perfect. Sans took a shortcut to Joseph’s front door, not wanting to wake Papyrus by opening and closing their own door, and knocked twice. After a few minutes and some muffled shuffling, the door swung open, revealing Joseph in jeans and and polo, despite the fact that it was 2 am, looking rather tired. 

“Sans?” he asked, looking rather confused. 

“yeah. hate to bother ya, joey, but i kinda need a favor.” Joseph frowned concernedly.

“Yes, of course, is everything alright?” he asked worriedly. Sans grinned.

“yeah, yeah, everything's fine, i just…” in hindsight, maybe it was a little ridiculous to ask a neighbor for a wrench at 2 am on a Wednesday morning, but he was here now. He held up the broken wrench.

“i was wonderin’ if i could maybe borrow a half-size wrench from ya.” Joseph looked confused for a moment, and opened his mouth to ask a question, then apparently thought better of it.

“Yes, sure. Here, come in.”

Sans stepped inside and, as Joseph motioned him to follow him, navigated behind the man through the house to the garage, where a draft of cold, chemical-scented air hit him like a soft wall, wrapping around his skull with a silent whisper of memories. Joseph approached an adjacent wall, against which sat a tall, multi-tiered tool chest. He opened one of the drawers, revealing a set of wrenches. 

“What size didja say you needed, again?” he asked, glancing back at sans.

“half size.” he replied. Their voices sounded overly loud in the cold silence of the garage, echoing against the concrete, doubling the offense with their second iteration. The faint chirp of crickets could be heard, perhaps annoyed at the conversation, however brief, being held at their concert. Joseph picked up the half size wrench, and slid the drawer shut with a metallic rattle and clang that somehow seemed less awkward than their quiet voices. Sans expected Joseph to hand him the wrench, and the old man paused, as if he planned to do so, but then let out a small breath and walked back into the house, wrench still in hand. Sans followed, shutting the garage door behind him, when they arrived back at the front door, Joseph asked, affecting an air of aloof curiosity, 

“So, what are you working on this late at night?” his brows furrowed, but not in anger. Sans shrugged.

“eh, just an old machine. broke down, i'm fixin’ it for...a buddy.” he trailed off, glancing down.  _ You don't even know if it'll work, much less if it'll bring him back. Do you even  _ want  _ him back? No, of course you do. Of course. _

“Hm. If you don't mind, I'd like to see this machine. Mind if I watch you work for a bit?” he asked, the wrench swinging almost imperceptibly at his side. Sans paused. He didn't really like talking about the machine, or or even acknowledging it to strangers but… Joseph was was a friend. Plus, he was lending him a wrench. And what if Joseph had some ideas about the machine? Lord knows Sans wasn't getting anywhere with it, maybe a fresh pair of eyes could see something that would put him a back on track. He shrugged.

“i don't see why not, though it's not that interesting.” he said. Joseph smiled, and held out the wrench. Sans took it, feeling its heft, its solidity, and took a deep breath.

When he stepped off the porch, Joseph was right behind him, and the still night air smelled like mysteries about to be unravelled, and minds prepared to follow suit.

.o.O.o.

Sans opened the door to the house as quietly as possible,  not eager to alert his brother to the fact that he wasn't asleep in his room, and less eager still to be forced to explain that he hadn't been there for months, years, timelines to numerous and varied to track. 

(He had tried. At one point.) 

He motioned to Joseph to follow him, and led the way to the basement, where he flicked on the light, and let out a long breath that eased no tension at all. He set the broken wrench down on his bech, pinning down all corner of the blueprint that was curling up, and turned back to the machine.

“welp, this is it.” he said casually, glancing at Joseph to see his reaction. This was practically his life's work after all. Except it wasn't even his. What a fitting metaphor. 

“What is it?” Joseph asked, moving closer to the machine. Sans tensed involuntarily as the man approached it, but Joseph folded his hands behind his back as he examined it, making no move to touch the machine, and Sans relaxed somewhat. 

“time machine.” Sans answered simply, his voice hovering between telling a joke and stating a fact. Joseph turned back to him, but Sans was bent over the blueprint, glancing between it and the papers in his hand with visible concentration, revealing nothing. 

“there's a stool over there if you want.” Sans pointed behind Joseph without looking up from the blueprint. Joseph pulled it up and sat down on the other side of the freestanding bench, looking for at the blueprint. He frowned, squinted, turned his head this way and that, but….the blueprints just didn't make sense. The writing didn't even seem to be in English, but rather some sort of symbols, actually, they looked rather like…

“wait, is this written in WingDings?” he asked incredulously after spotting the smiley and frowney faces that couldn't belong to any other alphabet. Sans’ reaction was immediate, his head whipped up and his eyes were wide in shock.

“y-you know wingdings?” he asked hopefully. Joseph frowned in confusion. 

“Well, I know  _ of  _ it, I can't read it. I think it's a font…? I've seen it on some word documents. But why is the blueprint written that way? It doesn't make sense.” Sans’ face fell into confusion.

“a...font? no, it's a language. only g--” he broke eye contact and looked down. “not a lot of people know it.” Joseph blinked. He was sure wingdings was a font option, but Sans was saying it was a whole language? That didn't line up.

“anyways. i've been working on this thing for ages, but the blueprints don't make a lot of sense.”

“Not your design then?” Joseph asked. Sans shook his head, grimacing slightly.

Joseph frowned, and as Sans went back to work studying the blueprints, he pulled out his phone and started googling. After a brief moment, he grabbed a sheet of scrap paper and a pencil and started writing. Pretty soon he had a small section of the blueprint translated--it appeared that these wingdings still translated to English letters just like the font. He glanced up to tell Sans this, only to see the skeleton practically hanging off the end of of the wrench as he tried to tighten a screw that was already way tighter than it needed to be.

“Jeez, Sans, you gonna break my wrench too?” he asked. Sans let go of the wrench and turned back to Joseph, his ever-present smile unreadable.

“well, can't have this thing comin’ apart, can i?” he asked, picking up another bolt.

Joseph quirked a brow.

“Well, no, but if you tighten the bolts too much you'll put unnecessary pressure on it.” he said. Sans merely shrugged, and started tightening the next bolt. Joseph watched as the bolt turned and turned...and turned...and tuuuurrrnneedd...And still Sans kept pushing the wrench, even as the metal gave a dangerous groan, twisting into the metal plating in a way that seemed unsafe. 

“I'm tellin’ ya, you can't tighten it that much, you'll break it!” Joseph insisted. 

“s’ already broken. it's gotta be secure.” Sans muttered stiffly...still pushing the wrench. Joseph frowned, getting a little confused now. The blueprints lay forgotten on the bench as he watched Sans tighten the ever loving hell out of three more bolts before he spoke up again.

“Sans. You gotta loosen some of those bolts.”

Sans glared over his shoulder at the man.

“hey, whose project is this, huh? the bolts can't be loose.”

Normally, if someone was being this stubborn about something, Joseph would just let it go. But something seemed...off, in this situation. Maybe it was the added tension in Sans’ shoulders, maybe it was the way his words were a little too cutting, maybe it was the way he was so adamant about something so simple when usually he was always open to new ideas, hell, maybe it was just the way this room seemed too quiet, but Joseph pushed the matter.

“You could have tightened those bolts half as much, and they wouldn't be loose! Dontcha think you're going a little overboard?”

“...overboard. heh.” Sans chuckled darkly, still looking at the machine. From his angle, Joseph couldn't see the pitch black voids of his eye sockets, the way his hand clenched the wrench like he was trying to break it.

“joey, i’m only gonna say this one more time. the bolts. can't. be. loose.” The skeleton’s voice was clipped and angry, an obvious warning that Joseph needed to let it go, preferably right now.

“But they don't need to be that tight either! You're going to make it structurally unsound, it'll be dangerous!” Okay, that was enough, he should stop now.

Sans muttered something darkly under his breath. Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask...

“What was that?”

_ Snap. _

“i  _ said _ , i’m tightening them so it  **WON’T** BE DANGEROUS THIS TIME, SO JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Sans’ voice escalated to a roar and he whirled around to face Joseph, his face twisted into a snarl, which was all the more frightening for the eternal smile it was twisted around. His right eye socket was dark, and the left one was lit up by a burning cyan orb of light. Joseph’s heart stopped out of pure fear as the short skeleton, whom he had thought he knew, stood stock still in front of him looking positively murderous, power and anger rolling off of him in waves. Joseph backed up a step, feeling like he had made a grievous error, like he had crossed some line that had laid untouched for a long time, but he couldn't go back now. 

That being said, he very obviously needed to be careful going forwards. He should just say something to diffuse the situation, try to calm Sans down, and then pretend the conversation never happened. Just forget about the bolts, let Sans do what he wants, just let it go. He needed to let it go. It wasn't his business. He shouldn't ask questions. Especially should not ask that one burning question. Asking questions was a bad idea before and it was a worse one now. He  _ knew _ it was a bad idea, so he wasn't going to do it. That would be the worst thing he could do. So he wasn't going to do it, he was going to keep his mouth shut, he wasn't going to ask--

“...this time?” his traitorous mouth let out the question, and there was a long, long,  _ long _ silence. Sans narrowed his eye sockets at him, that one orb of bright blue looking at him searchingly, and then finally it was snuffed out, leaving two pitch black voids that were even worse, somehow.

Sans turned around wordlessly and started working on the machine again, opening up some kind of panel and looking at whatever was inside. Joseph didn't move, trying to get his lungs to work right and his heart to slow down, but he was still on edge, still terrified because  _ that was fucking terrifying. _ Joseph had seen war, had seen explosions and gunfire and bright faces gone pale with fear and agony, had stared death in the face and come out relatively fine, and yet, that blue fire, those empty sockets, struck some deep primal fear in his heart that left him frozen in place. He was seventy-six years old but he felt every inch a terrified kid.

He had never, ever, seen Sans get angry before, he realized. Annoyed, sure. Frustrated, yes. 

But actually, truly angry? No. And he never wanted to again. 

He sat awkwardly on the stool as Sans continued work on the machine, a deathly silence suffocating the room. He didn’t want to move, or speak, or do anything at all that might make Sans react that way again. He had had no idea Sans was even capable of that kind of rage, and now it felt like suddenly everything he knew was gone, like he didn’t know the short skeleton at all. Everyone had their problems, he knew that (boy, did he know that) but whatever Sans’ problem was, it must be pretty bad, to hold that kind of pent-up anger under his lazy facade. He could guess that it had to do with the machine, with some mistake made long in the past that had consequences, but he didn’t know anything more than that, other than the fact that Sans was pretty upset over it still.  

Joseph felt bad about pushing the issue, he knew dredging up things from the past was a shitty thing to do, intentionally or not, and he was determined to not do it again. The best thing to do to move on from the situation was probably to leave, but Joseph felt pinned to the stool by some unspoken rule, by the deathly silence, by the silent figure of the crouched skeleton who wasn’t speaking to him. And so he sat there for minutes or hours, it was hard to tell, just watching Sans work. That was what he had wanted, right? To see what Sans was working on? He regretted it.

Finally, out of the blue, in fact so suddenly that Joseph jumped a bit, Sans spoke. 

“hey, joey.” he said, and Joseph replied carefully.

“Yes?”

“you ever heard of the butterfly effect?”

Joseph frowned, unsure of where this was coming from. “What, the whole “step on a butterfly in the past, drastically change the future” thing?”

“that’s the one.”

“Uh, yes, I have.”

“people don’t talk about it enough.”

What was he supposed to say to that? He was in completely unfamiliar territory--he wasn’t sure if Sans was still mad, he couldn’t see his face to get any sort of cues, he wasn’t sure what he should and shouldn’t say, he had no idea what was going on.

“O-okay? Why do you...think that?”

“because it’s an important life lesson. everything has consequences. even good things have consequences. anything can go wrong at any time for any reason.”

Well, that wasn’t pessimistic or anything. He wasn’t sure what to say to that either, but Sans didn’t wait for him to reply anyways.

“you have to be careful about every single thing you do because you never know what actions are gonna have consequences until they happen, you know? little details and things. stepping on a butterfly. it could change the future, even if you’re not trying to do that.”

“I suppose so.”

“yeah. of course, it might not matter at all. but maybe, when time works right, it really does matter.”

There’s another silence. And then Sans pauses for a moment before he speaks again, as if considering whether or not he should say his next words.

“look, i’m sorry for yellin’ atcha, joey. But the bolts are important. they’re a detail, ya know? somethin’ could go wrong, you never know. you never really know, because how could you? it could be the weirdest thing. It could be a crossed wire, or a wrong piece, or a loose bolt. And then all of a sudden, this little thing, this butterfly effect, has a consequence. things can go wrong. or even _ really _ wrong. like, you didn’t even know things could  _ go _ this wrong, and nobody’ll know what to do, so everybody’ll start panicking. but somebody’s gotta fix it, right? somebody’s gotta deal with the consequence.”

Joseph isn’t sure Sans is talking to him anymore, isn’t even sure Sans remembers he’s in the room. The skeleton is starting to speak faster and faster, his movements becoming jerky and tense as he keeps talking. Joseph isn't sure he wants to hear this, but someone has to do it, so he sits still and listens.

“Someone’s gotta fix it, someone who knows what they’re doing. Maybe it’s your dad, or your mentor, or your boss, someone’ll go to fix it. and even  _ that _ can have a consequence. everything has to have a goddamn consequence. you have a loose bolt or something, so the machine implodes. The machine implodes, so people panic. People panic, so nobody’s fixing it. Nobody fixes it, so  _ he  _ goes down there himself.  _ He _ goes down there, and the machine sucks him in and he dies and  _ gets erased from space-time and n o b o d y   r e m e m b e r s   h i m .” _

...Sans wasn’t working on the machine anymore. He was sitting perfectly still on the floor, head slumped forwards, shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Joseph felt frozen, paralyzed by the shock of realization. This wasn’t about the butterfly effect. This wasn’t about consequences. This wasn’t about bolts.

This was about losing someone. 

Well, at least he knew how to deal with that, sort of. A wave of empathy released fear’s hold on him, and he stood up from the stool and walked forwards as if through molasses. He picked up the wrench from where it had fallen from Sans’ hand, and put it on the table. Then, with a slight grunt, he sat on the floor next to the skeleton. Although it was his first instinct, he didn’t make any move to touch Sans because he knew not everybody was comforted by that, and he didn’t want to upset him further. Finally, something occurred to him. If whoever this person was (father, mentor, boss, it didn’t matter, it all hurt) had been forgotten by everyone except Sans, then the skeleton must have been alone in whatever mourning had occurred. He frowned. Nobody would had been there to help, if he needed it. Nobody would have come. Nobody even remembered. Had Sans tried to get them to remember? Joseph gets the sick, gut-settling feeling that he wouldn’t have, that he would just put up that damn smile and pretend that nothing had happened, pretend everything was fine, especially if it was for his brother’s benefit. Joseph knew how willing a person could be to hide how they really felt in order to make others happy but....pretending that you weren’t grieving for someone close to you, alone? That was a tall order. 

“Sans...” he said, but the skeleton did not reply. Joseph sighed, and set a gentle hand on the skeleton’s shoulder. He had to say something, anything. He didn't know why Sans told him of all people about this, maybe it was a cry for help, maybe he just needed to tell  _ someone _ and Joseph was convenient, or maybe he didn't mean to say anything but the words just poured out, Joseph had seen it all before. But whatever the reason, it was Joseph’s job now, as the skeleton’s friend, to try and help. To not let him be alone in grief anymore. To say something. Anything.

“...I’m sorry for your loss.”

Under his hand, Sans’ shoulders grew tense, rising slightly as he ducked his head further, bringing one hand up to cover his eye sockets. His shoulders shook more, and Joseph sighed, moving his hand so his arm wrapped around the skeleton’s shoulders, feeling them shudder and shake as tears slipped silently between Sans’ fingers. 

“H...heh, s-sorry, joey.” Sans said weakly.

“Don’t be.” Joseph said, voice gruff but not unkind. “Everyone ends up crying at 3 am on the floor at some point.”

This earned a broken laugh from Sans, which quickly dissolved into a choked-off sob. Sans hunched in on himself, his body shuddering with the effort of not breaking down.

“i-i’m fine.” he choked out, abruptly standing up and clenching his fists. “he’s been gone a long time. it's okay.” he says, and as he stood up, Joseph scoffed.

“That’s bullshit. Time isn’t some magic cure-all, it doesn’t erase grief.” 

Sans doesn’t reply. Joseph sighs.

“And you shouldn’t have to defend grief anyways. If you’re hurting about something, you shouldn’t have to keep it bottled up. Losing someone important...it’s horrible. I know what that’s like. There's a piece missing from you, a hole, and it never really fills. But ignoring it doesn't make it go away, doesn't even make it less noticeable. I'm sorry everyone forgot him, I'm sorry you were alone. But.”

He paused. Of course he wanted to help Sans. He was dealing with some rough shit, and Joseph wanted him to be okay. But Joseph had only known him for two months. They were good friends, but not quite the kind you spilled your darkest secrets to. Was it really his place to offer his help on something so deeply personal? Would Sans even want his help? 

...Ah, fuck it. Joseph was too old to sit by and watch his friends hurt without doing something about it.

“You're not alone any more, if you ever really were to begin with. I don't know if you regret telling me all that or not, but you did, and now I'm here to help, however I can. If that means you want me to never mention it again, fine. But if you're having trouble sleeping...well, my door is always open.”

Sans looked down at his feet.

“...thanks joey.” he said quietly. Joseph smiled softly.

“Any time. Hey, why don’t you come on over to my place and have some tea? I’d love to hear about this guy if you’re willing to tell me about him, and I think you might have spent a little too long in this basement.”

Sans chuckled slightly, looking back up with a hesitant grin.

“yeah, that sounds good.” Joseph grinned back, and Sans lead the way to the stairwell. They ascended in silence, and then, just before they turn the corner to the entryway, Sans paused.

“hey, joey.”

“What?”

There’s that crazy I-know-more-than-you grin Joseph knew. It was a little forced, but it was better than nothing.

“i know a shortcut.”

He said it like it’s some great inside joke that Joseph didn’t understand, his eyes lighting up a little bit. Joseph raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“A shortcut to my house? It’s just across the street!” Sans rolled his eyes, grabbed the old man’s hand, and turned the corner...into Joseph’s living room.

“...Whatever this is, I shouldn't be surprised by it.” Joseph said tiredly. Sans just chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I’ll put the tea on.” Joseph said with a resigned sigh, and headed into the kitchen. He filled the teakettle and set it on the stove, watching Sans sit down at the table in his peripheral vision as he clicked the gas on. Then he started rummaging through the cupboards for teabags. He found his usual green tea easily enough, but he had to root around a little bit to find the magic tea he knew was in there. Somewhere.

By the time he found the stuff, the kettle was whistling, and Joseph pulled it off the stove and filled two mugs with water, plopping the teabags in. He turned around and set down a mug at his spot and one in front of a silent Sans, breaking him out of his intense scrutiny of the tabletop.

“thanks.”

There was a peaceful silence as they drank their tea, with the chirping of the crickets and the humming of the fan providing a rather nice background noise. About halfway through his mug, Sans sighed, and tapped a finger on the table, holding the mug on the table with one hand and staring into it as if it held some untold secrets. When it didn’t look like he was going to be saying anything anytime soon, Joseph broke the silence for him.

“So. Do you want to swap stories or no?” Sans looked up at this, curious.

“what kinda stories you got to swap?” he asked.

“Oh, all kinds.”

“that’s descriptive.” Sans drawled, and Joseph grinned.

“Well, I got war stories and lab explosion stories and one-time-my-buddy-was-so-drunk stories and one-time- _ I _ -was-so-drunk stories and…stories about my wife, stories about my time in Boston, all sorts of stories. Take your pick.”

“i didn’t know you have a wife.” It was an innocent comment. Joseph forced himself to nod at the skeleton, to not look down at the table.

“Well, I’m not surprised, she died seven years ago.”

There’s a silence. 

“i’m...sorry.” the line was delivered slowly. Joseph forced himself to smile and nod.

“Thank you.” Nothing more needed to be said about it. 

“So. Sound like a fair trade?” Joseph asked.

Sans nodded, then took a deep breath, and looked up at the ceiling for a minute before speaking again.

  
  


“okay. before alphys, the royal scientist was a monster named dr. wingdings gaster…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I'd been planning this chapter for a while, I hope you guys liked it! I always thought that Sans opening up about this subject would be a bit dodgy, and I hope that came through well. Anyways. I know not a lot of questions were answered in this chapter, but the next one will get into that more. Lookin' at you, you smiley little demon flower.  
> Anyways, lemme know what you thought of this chapter!


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